


You Complete Me

by Eggerthella



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Brock Reynolds, Hurt Clay Spenser, Hurt Trent Sawyer, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 47,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggerthella/pseuds/Eggerthella
Summary: When Brock becomes sick he is left behind at HAVOC while the rest of the team is on a mission.  Their mission would become saving each other and then pulling them out of their own hells.
Comments: 156
Kudos: 196





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first time that I have ever posted anything. I am a technical scientific writer, so some times I am the queen of run-ons and comma splices. Please forgive me. I am not sure if this will be any good. But the story has been haunting me for over a year so I penned it down. It is complete. I figured it was safer that way, instead of leaving the story incomplete. Hope you enjoy.

It was supposed to be an _easy_ assignment. But when was there ever an easy assignment as a tier one operative. The information that Mandy and Davis retrieved was solid and straight forward, they were going in to retrieve a HVT for Mandy to question about a foreign weapons cache that showed up on the black market. Since everything was straight forward and _easy_ it naturally went to hell quickly, leaving all the men cold and longing for a hot shower and home. It was really nobody’s fault but good ole’ Mother Nature; she had a way of being cruel at the most inopportune time. She let heavy chilling rain dump upon the men washing out their trail leaving them to reroute and reroute and reroute, adding on a whole day of misery. The rain led to all their exhaustions, but it was not what did Brock and Clay in. It was their unexpected fall down a hill side into an icy cold river below. It left both the men bruised, battered and chilled to bone. After sometime the team was able to get their brothers out of rivers icy clutches and successful deliver the HVT back to Mandy. They all showered and loaded the plane to head home, but the chill never left Brock.

It had been an unbelievable long 22 hours and 33 minutes since they had deployed back towards US soil when Brock and Cerb finally walked through their front door. In that time they sat on an uncomfortable transport plane, headed back to barracks, unpacked and cleaned their gear, wrote after action reports and debriefed. As he walked through the door the only thing keeping him going was the excitement of finally being able to call his deployed fiancé, Evanlyn, for the first time in what felt like months but had only been two weeks. Hoping the elation of the sound of her voice would help draw out some of the soreness and cold.

The nearly intoxicating excitement of hearing her voice and making arrangements for when she returned home after eight, almost unbearable, months down range only lasted for minutes. His excitement rapidly morphed into disappointment and soul eating loneliness and sorrow when Evan informed him that her assignment was extend by another 6 weeks. It was something they were both used too, being in the military and all; especially when one of you is an amazing doctor in the Surface Warfare Medical Corps, that may have saved your best friend’s life once and the other was a tier one operative on the best damn SEAL team there is. Still it did not make it any easier. His disappointment of the news only added to the cold relentless ache in his body.

By the time he had finished the call, fed Cerb and made sure he was settled, the self-pity of his disappointment had thawed but the bone cold chill and exhaustion were still heavy. Shortly before midnight, completely drained, Brock finally climbed into his glorious bed, praying that the cold would dissipate after he slept; he was out as soon as he covered in his thick down comforter.

At 0330, only four short hours after his head hit the pillow, his phone on his night stand rang. He was rapidly filled with unadulterated fear that a person gets when a love one is deployed and their phone rings at that ghastly hour. The dread was quickly replaced with utter annoyance when he saw it was Blackburn, because that could only mean one thing at this deplorable time; they were getting spun up again. _Just great_ , he thought.

After answering the phone and being informed to be on base in an hour Brock crawled his aching, tired body into the shower; turning the water as hot as it would allow, hoping that the cold ache would leave. As rivulets of scorching water ran over his body, turning his tan skin red, he leaned his head against the wall. The heat encompassing his battered body and allowing him to drift into a peaceful semi-consciousness, until the water ran cool. Realizing he spent way too much time in the shower Brock quickly changed, layering on extra clothes begging for the cold to dissolve. Running through the house one last time making sure everything was off and unplugged, he grabbed his and Cerb’s to go bags and they hopped into the truck and headed for base.


	2. Chapter 2

“ ‘Bout time you got here.” Sonny said to Brock sardonically as he and Cerb plodded through the door.

Brock’s only acknowledgement was a slight lift of his head.

“Man, you look like crap. Did you get any sleep?” Sonny added.

“Thanks.” Brock responded with as much enthusiasm as an exhausted sloth.

“No honestly man, you okay?” Clay added, with concern.

“Yeah, just tired. How ya’ doin’?”

“Tired and sore.”

“Settle in men!” Came Blackburn’s voice from the front as he, Mandy and Davis walked in towards the screens. The men made it to their seat as the briefing began.

For once the briefing was actually ‘brief’. They were headed to Libya to protect one of the American Ambassadors as he made a series of public appearances throughout the country. While they were there they would also administer humanitarian relief, in the form of food and simple medical aid to the less fortunate, during a time of extended drought. Like with any natural disaster there was tension amongst the people and some politicians because of the lack of aid distributions. Basically the rich were getting aid but the middle class and poor were not, which made for an angry 90% of the population.

Jason did voice his displeasure about being on ‘babysitting’ duty. Ray and the rest of them voiced their opinions about why this could not have waited another twelve hours.

Blackburn’s response was a classic parent’s response of ‘because I said so’. However, they all knew there were higher ups pulling the strings, but they were all just too exhausted to continue the argument.

By the time the briefing had ended and they grabbed their folders and headed toward the cages, Brock actually felt worse than when he arrived. His head now pounded in time with his heart and a slight nausea was making a presence. ‘Great’ Brock thought, just what he needed was to be getting sick, at least they were going to a fairly stable area and it should be a short assignment and nothing to strenuous.

Thirty minute later they were headed towards the tarmac.

Before they loaded the plane Trent grabbed Brock’s shoulder and spun him around. Trent’s eyes were soul searching Brock’s, looking for any faults, it was something that the two medics in his life were masters at. It was always unnerving and made Brock want to crumble into a pile right there on the tarmac. “You feel okay? You look more than just tired.”

Brock released an anguished sigh and responded with a dishearten monotone “Yeah, just exhausted. Physically and mentally.”

“What’s on your mind?” eyes never leaving Brock’s pale features.

“You know, I hate when you do that.”

“Well then answer me honestly and then it would be over sooner.” Trent chided.

Not able to deal with _those eyes_ any longer Brock gave in. “Life. Evan. The Pursuit of Happiness.”

Trent did not miss the mention of Brock’s fiancé. “What’s going on with Evan?”

Brock recounted the conversation he had last night, or was it today who knows at this point, the crushing disappointment and sadness evident in his voice. Trent’s heart broke for his brother, maybe he did not know exactly how he was feeling but he assumed it was much like how he felt leaving his wife for deployment. However when you got extended it could leave a crater in your heart, no words could fill it and make it better; the longing of home and it comforts crushing. In other words it **sucked**.

“Sorry man,” was all Trent could think to say. He knew no way to replace that lost look in his brother’s eyes, no way to simply make it better. So, he would be there, his sounding board when or if things came to an affront.

“Hey when we get in the air you climb into that hammock and sleep, okay?” Trent added.

Brock just nodded and shuffled onto the plane. He settled Cerb into his kennel and plopped down into his seat before fastening his safety belt. Twenty minutes later when the plane was finally at altitude he made his way to the hammock and fell into an exhausted slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everybody that has commented and/or left Kudos. It means a lot.

Jason made his way over to Trent, who was taking inventory of his medical supplies.

“Is he okay?” Jason asked Trent, while directing his head toward Brock.

“Physically I think he is just exhausted, like the rest of us. But he spent a long time in that river before we were able to get him out.”

“Yeah I know.” Jason voice was flat and hollow. Regret crossing his face as memories of the events swirled through his brain.

“I am worried about him too. I’ll keep my eyes on him. Clay too."

“Thanks Trent.”

\-----------

Less than two hours into the flight Trent's eyes caught Clay get up and stretch. He watched as Clay walked over to where Brock slept restlessly. Stiffness present in his strides. Clay froze there staring at Brock increasing unease engraved deeper etches on his face. He was obviously feeling the same unease Trent was feeling.

Clay slowly turned and slumbered towards Trent, slumping down into the seat next to him.

"You okay kid?”

"Hmmm?” Clay was distracted from his thoughts.

“You feelin’ okay?”

“Ahh, yeah. Tired, a little sore, but otherwise fine.” He paused to look at Brock, covered under a mound of blankets and coats, and added with a slight chuckle in his voice, “Finally warm.”

Trent looked at Clay, scrutinizing him from head to toe, determining if he was trying to pull the wool over his eyes. But also trying to judge where his mind set was at. After several long seconds Trent whispered to Clay, trying to not wake the sleeping men around him. “He’ll be okay.”

Clay nodded with a half-smile and sigh of relief. Trent’s simple statement was always enough to reassure him. That was something Trent was good at; he always knew what to say and when. Brock may be the quiet observer, a mind that could put pieces of information together and see patterns that were unprecedented. Jason the father figure, he would yell and holler, put you in your place and he would protect you with his life, if it came to that. Ray the judgmental older brother, trying to always make you better with his sound wisdom. Sonny, was well, Sonny, the class clown there to lighten the situation when shit hit the fan or when things were getting emotionally to intense, but he would be there for you no matter what; loyal to a fault. But Trent, besides being the best damn medic, is the sounding board for the Bravo men. They trusted him with their lives, so it made sense that they would go to him for reassurance and confidence. He could read their emotions just as well as Brock, the difference is he was always able to give diminutive but precise meaningful responses; they cut to the point and had a way to either make you think or make it better. That is what Clay loved about Trent. 

Clay sat next to Trent staring at Brock and the rest of his brothers. As his nerves calmed so did his body. Sleep gently pulling him into her grasp.

After Clay fell asleep Trent did one quick round of the plane. Checking to makes sure all his brothers were settled in and asleep. Pausing and studying Brock a little longer than the rest; observing the tight lines of discomfort on his face, and feeling his broken heart in his. He ran his hand through Brock’s curls before making his way to Cerb.

As Trent approached Cerb gave him that knowing whine. He open the kennel's door patted Cerb’s head. “I know boy…I know”. Trent whispered as he reached in further to give Cerb some water, since his master had not moved in almost five hours. “He’s going to be okay…I promise.” Cerb just licked his hand in response as he closed the kennel’s door. Standing observing his surroundings one more time before he made his way back to where Clay was and settled in beside; drifting to sleep in minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

They were not even half way to Libya when all the men were awoke by a deep chesty hack. Shooting up in worry, they all observed Brock almost face planting out of his hammock as he tried to recover his breath. Trent was there in a heartbeat to help steady him and lower him the rest of the way to the ground. 

“Breathe, just breathe. Deep breaths, nice and easy. There you go.” Slowly Brock was able to regain his breath, but the fear was still present in his eyes as Trent dissected him with his eyes.

“What are feeling right now? Do not leave anything out….I mean it Brock.” Trent ordered Brock. 

Brock took a deep breath, voice thin with pain “Sore throat, chest really hurts, headache, little bit of nausea, cold, really, really cold and very self-conscious. I hate y’all staring at me. I’m fine guys.”

“Sure ya are.” Sonny muttered inaudibly.

“You let Trent be the judge of that.” said Jason, the concern laced his voice. 

Trent reached his hand for Brock’s forehead, Brock pulled away blocking Trent’s hand with his arm. “Yes I have a fever, too.”

“Broooock!” Jason said sternly.

Brock lowered his head and arm in surrender and allowed Trent access to his forehead. “Yep, definitely a fever.”

“Why didn’t you say you felt this bad, man?” Sonny questioned him.

“I didn’t feel this ‘bad’ when we loaded the plane.”

“Damn it Brock!” Jason detected the hurt on Brock's face, as he registers the harshness of his voice.

Backtracking his words and tone he adds. “You will stand down on this assignment until Trent deems you clear to operate. When we land Trent will look you over and then straight to the temp barracks.” 

Brock wanted to bury himself at the reprimand, long buried insecurities where starting to scratch the surface. He was about to apologize and explain to the team he was perfectly capable of ‘babysitting’, but the words died on his lips as another coughing fit ripped through his body; Trent and Clay there in a second to support his weight. Leaving Brock in Clay’s arms, Trent rushed to his medical bag and grabbed his stethoscope. Rushing back to Brock, Trent looked him in eyes; tired eyes responding in unspoken trust and permission for Trent to continue. 

“Guys can you help me get him to that bench” Trent asked. Ray and Sonny lifted Brock up onto his wobbly legs and supported him as he trundled to the bench. 

Trent squatted down in front of Brock and pressed the cold stethoscope onto his chest, sending a shiver down the sick man’s spine. It was obvious by the look on Trent’s face that he was less than amused with Brock for not speaking up sooner. Moving the stethoscope around to Brock’s back and then back to his chest listening intently, Trent’s look slowly morphed from annoyance into concern. Pulling the ear pieces out he stood and shook his head.

“He definitely has congestion and some wheezes and rales. It’s most likely pneumonia. When we land I will see if we can get a sputum culture and gram stain. If we have access I would like a chest x-ray too. Maybe we can pinpoint what is causing this and help dictate treatment, heading it off before it gets worse.” Trent announced to the team. 

As another coughing fit wreaked havoc on Brock’s body he slumped heavily against the side of the plane, the utter exhaustion written all over his face. The blush on his cheeks, either from the rising fever or the embarrassment of all the attention, only grew as he sucked in some much needed air. All he wanted was to be lying in a comfortable warm bed, snuggled under a mound of blankets with his fiancé and dog. 

Trent looked at Brock with ‘those eyes’ again. He walked over to a supply box and came back towards Brock with two blankets, water and some acetaminophen. As Trent handed the water, pills and blankets to Brock he gently ordered “Take these and get some sleep. We got your six.” 

Brock dutifully obeyed his orders and curled up on the bench which he was sitting. He turtled his way under the blankets. Even though they were not the nice thick fuzzy ones that Brock longed for, they would do for now. He closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes.

Trent stared at Brock, unease still written all over his face. 

“He’s goin’ to be okay, right?” Ray asked. All of the team’s anxious eyes were on Trent as he put his medical gear away. 

“Yeah, he needs rest and some fluids. If it’s bacterial, some antibiotics. If it’s viral, we just have to let it take its course and treat the symptoms. Sucks either way, but he’ll be okay.” Trent informed them as he walked back over to Brock, not sure if he believed his words himself. Resting his hand on Brock’s feverish forehead he settled onto the bench next to Brock’s head; hollowness present in the pit of his stomach.


	5. Chapter 5

Jason walked towards Trent, stopping to gage the ailing man himself. As Jason observed Brock the darkness of a flashback of the early days of Brock overcame his senses, filling him with a twinge of regret. The early days of Brock were tumultuous at best, but Brock proved himself over and over again. 

Now all these years later he realized  _he_ took him for granted.  _They_ took him for granted. It could be easy because of Brock’s quiet nature; never one to make a ripple unless it was beneficial. Never one to speak out of turn, even when he had every right to do so. Always present and always loyal, even when it was painful, both physically and mentally. (Come to think about it Brock and Cerb are very much alike.) It took him a long time to realize what Brock brought to the team; not a sniper or a natural leader, not over confident and arrogant or macho with an ego so big that it could swallow the solar system. What Brock was, was the counterbalance. The peaceful, quit, counterbalance the team needed to function and survive; to re-center and regroup, to level themselves and balance their inner turmoil. He really needs to tell him that more often; remind him he is important and valuable. Really he should do that more often with all his men.

He had also learned through the years that Brock had insecurities and demons deeper than the River of Styx. He could get lost in his head so deep, deeper than the Mariana Trench, that it could be hard to swim out. His assignment (and Trent’s) was to keep that from happening. On a good day it was an easy assignment. Yes, he would overthink, wheels moving faster than an overly caffeinated rat running on a wheel; but it was normally beneficial to the team or mission. But on a bad day, that assignment was nearly impossible. On a bad day when Brock’s well-constructed walls began to crumble; when he thought he screwed up or let the team down, Jason honestly believed there was not a scarier place in the whole world to be than in Brock Reynold’s own head . It honestly frightened him to his core. 

And today since Brock first walked into the briefing he was off and it was more than him just being sick. Brock’s walls were crumbling, he was slipping in on himself, even before he informed him he would stand down on this mission; the demons were scratching their way out of hell and on to the surface. Even though he could tell all this, the reason escaped him. Nevertheless Jason knew where he could find the answer. Trent. He just had to find a way to get it out of him.

Trent would not say anything in front of the whole group; he respected Brock’s privacy too much to add that embarrassment on to everything that he was feeling. Respected him too much to betray the trust of his best friend and his brother. Jason physically shook his head to abort his own rambling thoughts and finally continued over to where Trent had settled. 

“That’s physically what’s wrong but what’s going on in his head?” Jason asked as he lowered himself next to Trent. 

Trent took his eyes off of Brock to look at Jason, shaking his head, not sure if he wanted to share Brock’s emotional state with Jason. 

“Trent, I need to know.” Jason said. His voice strong, yet soft and pleading. Asking. Begging to be let in so he could help. Help make it better. Help reduce the burden that Trent would shoulder until Brock reburied his demons or until Trent died trying to save him. 

The prodigious softness in Jason’s voice had Trent launching into Brock’s recounting of the phone call with Evan and the fact she was extended again. The fact it was the anniversary of that fateful mission that destroyed him, but brought him into their lives. Trent continued, that he was sure deep down Brock’s insecurities of the letting the team down where going to surface as the illness eroded away at his well-constructed walls. In Trent’s head he honestly wanted to add that he was scared. Scared that he would not be able to pull him out this time. Scared that he would take a turn for the worse and there was nothing more he could do for Brock until they landed, but he kept those secrets to himself, no need to worry the rest of the team. 

Jason acknowledged Trent with a gentle head shack, all too familiar with Brock’s walls, and a whispered “Jeeze man, that sucks. 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to just make sure he can weather the storm that is a brewin’.” Jason added as he headed to his seat across from them. 

Trent just smiled and went back to watching his sleeping brother. Hoping and praying that things did not deteriorate, physically or mentally. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Wake up sleepy head.” Sonny said resting his hand gently on Brock’s shoulder.

Brock just curled tighter into himself and responded to Sonny’s wakeup call with a muffled annoyed “Mmmmm”.

“You’re kinda cranky when you’re sick.” Sonny added.

“Come on, we’re here, let’s get you in the van and get you into a real bed.” Ray added.

Brock slowly opened his eyes and winced when he saw all them staring at him. Man, he hated being the center of attention, the anxiety of it made him feel physical worse, who even knew that was possible at this minute. As he sluggishly sat up on the bench, another coughing fit ripped through his body, stealing his vison. The guys, including Cerb with soulful brown eyes, were there, offering unspoken encouragement as he tried to recapture the breath that was stolen from him and regain his vision and orientation. After several intense minutes of gasping and choking, and Trent’s instructions to just breathe, sweet glorious air filled his lung. He was breathing albeit it felt like it was through a straw. But hey, at least it was air, sweet merciful air. As the air refilled his lungs and oxygen filled his cells and cleared his brain he was able to recompose his stiff and sore body. Internally groaning as he begrudgingly stood onto unsteady legs. 

Clay and Trent quickly reached out to steady Brock’s wobbly legs, staring around Brock at each other with barley masked concern. 

“You good to move?” Trent inquired.

Brock just nodded, squeezing his eyes shut to counter the stars that exploded in his head at the movement and began shuffling his way toward the van. Cerb close by his side and the guys within arm’s length. Trent could hear the painful wheezes as he helped Brock get situated in to the front passenger seat and it honestly left him unnerved. Brock rarely got sick but when he did, he always seemed to go at it an impossible 110%. 

The van ride was scorching and cramped, there was no other way to put it. Six men, a dog, gear and external ground temperature of 40 C would call for nothing less. However, Brock was thankful for the heat. It had felt like days since he last felt internal warmth. Brock was also grateful for Ray’s kind heart. His brother was nice enough to give up his rightful place next to Jason in the front passenger’s seat for him. Seriously, grateful did not even come close to covering his gratitude at this point. Because honestly he did not think he could live through the embarrassment of getting sick on one of his brother’s if he did not have easy access to an openable window. The van ride might have helped with his warmth but it was for sure not helping his nausea or his headache. As the pain in his head ratcheted up, and his stomach churned Brock closed his eyes against the world and rested his aching head on the cracked window. The slight rocking of the van and his new found warmth were enough to lull him into a sleep that his body so desperately craved.

\--------

The next time Brock awoke they were pulling into the US Embassy in downtown Tripoli, Libya. As they parked the men began to gather their gear and unloading the van. Trent materializing by his side as he lethargically opened the van door, helping to extract his aching limbs from within and steading him as unsure legs hit the pavement. Brock began making his way towards the back of the van to grab his gear but was gently redirected by Jason and Trent’s hands on his shoulders. When Brock looked up he saw that Sonny and Clay had his and Cerb’s gear and Ray had Cerb hooked to his belt. He heard a quit “we gotta ya’ man” as they walked past and headed towards their temporary quarters for the next couple weeks. 

It felt like it took him a millennium to make it the 100 meters from the van into their quarters. The energy he thought he found from his short rest was drained faster than a five-year-old’s glass of chocolate milk. Body burning with exhaustion and pain by the time he was carefully guided down on a cot. He honestly  did not realize it was possible to sleep this much and still feel this exhausted. His body felt as if it was dragging through mud, thick cold deep mud. He has felt less exhausted after finishing one of his annual Ironman races or a week of sleepless nights standing guard. 

Trent gathered his medical gear watching Brock as he mentally composed himself for the onslaught of attention coming his way. After a moment Brock’s eyes met his, gaging the sick man’s composure level Trent spotted the moment that Brock gave his silent permission for the examination that he knew was coming. All the men hoovered in the back ground busying themselves without taking their eyes off of their medic and ailing brother, controlled panic hoovering above. Trent listened to Brock’s lungs and the worry lines around his eyes grew deeper every time he moved the stethoscope. When Trent asked him to take a deep breath it resulted in Brock coughing so hard his vision greyed at the edges and he almost passed out. All of their brothers, plus a very worried dog, ran to their sides, offering unspoken support. The one good thing that resulted from the coughing fit was that Trent was able to get an impeccable sputum sample, which did confirm his suspicion of bacterial pneumonia. 

Trent tenderly inserted an IV for his antipyretics, antibiotics and some much needed liquids. He hoped the IV would stave off the rapidly approaching dehydration from the fever, which did not want to relinquish its hold on the sick man, even with the antipyretics on board. Trent also hooked Brock up to an O 2 mask; hopefully allowing the man to recapture his breath easier. 

By the time Trent was finished with the exam Brock was looking ghastly pale and about ready to pass out. Ray noticed Trent packing up his gear. They met eyes, Trent silently asking for help. Trent could be unreadable at times even to his brothers, but this  _help_ went beyond the basic assistance of getting Brock settled onto his cot, it was a much more visceral  _help_ , the one that there was no fixing, just praying, and Ray could do that for him, he would do that for him and all of them. Ray offered not only his physical support but also his mental support, hoping his brothers would draw from it what they must. The two men made quick work of settling Brock down and covered him with a light blanket, before Cerb jumped on the cot and snuggled into his master’s side. Brock reached out from under the blanket and rested his hand on his dog, seemingly lost in thought.

After a moment Brock looked up at his brothers with shameful eyes and muttered a “Sorry guys.” 

“No need to apologize, we all get sick.” Jason said as he laid a hand on Brock feverous wet curls.

“Well most of us. The nasty little bugs are scared of Trent.” interjected Sonny.

Brock released a small huff of laughter as he closed his eyes and settled further under the blankets. 

“Get feeling better, brother.” Clay and Ray added.

“We will be back to check on you, call if you need anything. Phone is on the stand next to your cot. Lisa will be by later to let Cerb out and check on you. And stop blaming yourself. You did not ruin the mission. We will be just down a man until you get back on your feet.” Trent preached.

Brock just sighed a quiet “thanks mom” and was out like a light.

As they left Brock and an overly protectant Cerb curled up by his master’s side, in the conformable confines of the barrack, they all look back with a twinge of regret about the last assignment. The slight anxiety you get when one of your brothers is out of action was making itself felt and beginning to crescendo. The edge of anxiety that never seemed to truly go away until that brother was rightfully back along your side.

At least they would be back by their brother’s side tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

The men headed to HAVOC for the in-country briefing with their support teams. Tonight their babysitting duty would commence at the Embassy Ball. Blackburn assigned Trent, Jason and Sonny to the ballroom floor to observe and protect discreetly. Sonny was excited about not having to be outside in the oppressive heat, which he swore was ruining his complexion. That was until Blackburn informed him that they would need to be fitted for a tuxedo after the briefing.

“I’m not wearing a monkey suit.” Sonny protested. 

“You are a monkey” Clay mumbled under his breath from the seat next to Sonny. That resulted in a well placed kick to Clay’s shins and a coordinated hiss of pain. 

“Gentlemen!" Blackburn chastised. 

Blackburn continued his briefing and handing out assignments. Ray and Clay would be up in the sniper towers surrounding the compound. No tuxedos for them, just good old NWUs, which after the briefing Clay made sure that Sonny never heard the end of until they split for duty that night. They were dismissed to get fitted and prepared before their ‘babysitting’ duty commenced that night. None of them very thrilled about it.

\--------------

After five hours of ‘babysitting’ in the form of reconnaissance, all they really learned was that the Ambassador was an egotistical pompous ass, demanding everyone wait on him hand and foot and talking himself up like no other; at one point he demanded Sonny get him a drink, Jason was quick to grab Sonny’s shoulder and guide him away. The ‘ass’, as Sonny had starting calling him, would make ludicrous claims about how he was there to help Libya move in the right direction, but it was so painfully obvious he was only there to support his needs and drive his career forward. Even with all of his hot air and royal ‘assy-ness’, there was no direct enemies that stood out. But it would not at all be a surprise if everyone one in this room wanted the man dead. 

As big of an ass as the Ambassador might be, he did have a charming wife and two very polite and curious young boys. The two boys seemed to be enamored with Sonny and his Texas drawl. Most of Sonny’s night was spent discussing his favorite Looney Toons characters with the boys and quietly observing the Ambassador and his family’s many interactions.

The night went off without a hitch, which felt like a first in a very long time. All night Jason kept waiting for the other shoe to fall, but it never happened. When they were back in their barracks none of them worse for wear, he exhaled a sigh of relief. Observing the room his eyes quickly came to rest on Brock sound asleep, not even aware his brothers were back. Jason witnessed Trent rush pass to Brock’s side, even before Clay or Ray were able to put their weapons down, anxiety rowing off his body like sea waves in a storm. It was obvious where Trent’s head was at most of the night, regardless of the fact that Lisa gave them hourly updates on their sick brother. Jason sensed and observed all of their anxieties decline after they were able to observe for themselves that Brock’s condition had not deteriorated in their absences. 

The next two days were all about checking on Brock, who after a couple days of sleep and antibiotics was looking less like death and more like slightly warmed up death, and setting up strategies and routes to get the Ambassador and his entourage around the city. In the 72 hours since they were spun up Tripoli had only become more unstable. Their strategies would have to be flawless to effectively maneuver around the city and country without incident. As they became cross-eyed staring at endless piles of maps and satellite feeds, looking for any patterns that may cue them in on a best laid plan Jason gut churned, not sure what was causing it. All he knew was he really was wishing Brock was a hundred percent. Brock may not speak up often but when he does, you listen because he can read situations and patterns like no other. Putting Mandy and Brock’s minds together they could almost come up with the most unperceived pattern imaginable, which probable led to a lot of their missions’ successes. 

Still they looked and planned and practiced and prepared, over and over again. They were ready for this but Jason’s gut was screaming, never ebbing, only growing the longer they prepared.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The italics in this chapter will be a flashback, which may have a trigger for some people.

Today the team, sans Brock and Cerb, would take the Ambassador and his right hand man to meetings with a few foreign and governmental dignitiaries throughout Tripoli. As the sun kissed the horizon with its tranquil reds and pinks on that morning; Trent rose feeling everything but tranquil. Trent’s stomach in knots and his head was in a million places. He needed to let Cerb out, check all his gear and supplies, check on Brock, check in with Lisa to make sure the humanitarian supplies were in order and re-evaluate the routes, so he was more acquainted with them. All this weighted on him, but what left his head spinning and his stomach in butterflies was the fact that he was leaving Brock behind. 

Yes, Brock was definitely improving but something just did not feel right and he could not put his finger on it. Maybe it was just the fact that he hated leaving Brock behind. Maybe it was something more. 

They were normally paired together; he was always his partner in crime. As Sonny says “he completes him”. In a way it always made him feel a little incomplete when Brock wasn’t his partner, so maybe Sonny had a point. Brock could read him like an open book, knew where he was and where he was going at all times. He trusted all his brothers, but Brock was different. 

Like Sonny had done with Clay, they begrudgingly became friends. It was not nearly as hostile as the aforementioned pair, but it was just as reluctant. Trent knew that when Brock arrived on Bravo that he needed someone he could trust and confide in, particularly after what had happen to him on his previous team. Hell, he needed someone like that too. But the kid never talked, his emotions were closed down tighter than Fort Knox, he was unreadable and he could not figure him out, nor did he really want too. He was grieving, all of them were, but he was grieving in more ways than one. Not thinking clearly, not ready to let someone new in….. _afraid_ . None of them ready to let the new kid in. Brock not one to force his way in would just sit back silently observing. He would take their misplaced attitudes until he could no longer and he would either move on, speak up or suffer through until it got better; if it got better. 

_ The team recently lost a member. They were in the dark stage of grief, blaming themselves and each other. The new kid was just a reminder of their loss and it added fuel to the fire. However Trent’s grief was bigger, deeper than just the teams’. He and his wife, Sarah, recent lost their unborn child. They had tried for so long to have children. The grief in her eyes was agonizing to him. But what haunted him the most was the fact that he was rarely home to share in their grief, to be there for her. He felt as though he could not talk to her about it because it was all too raw for her; for him. He never told any of the guys about the miscarriage. He just preferred to keep it silently amongst him and his wife. However, that young new kid, with those intense hazel eyes, just walked over to him after his first couple weeks, with genuine sorrow in his eyes and voice and said ‘sorry for the loss of your child’ and walked away. It was the first words that Brock spoke to any of them, outside of the everyday greetings. At first he felt raw fury toward Brock. But he also felt some of the dark weight lift off his shoulders. Those words helped melt a small bit of the ice in his veins and began cutting the tendrils of grief wrapped around his heart.  _

_ It was in those seven words that Trent realized that this kid was perceptive, more perceptive than any of them put together. It was also at that very minute he realized he needed to talk to someone about his loss. He knew Brock would be that person, he would listen without judgment and comfort when he needed to and that is exactly what Brock did.  _

_One night of an exorbitant amount of alcohol consumption in an overseas bar, he spilt his heartache to Brock. Crying into his beer until Brock switched it to water without him even noticing. Every ounce of grief, greed, guilt, self-doubt and a thousand other bottled up emotions coming out in those tears._

_The next morning Trent remembered regretfully opening his eyes, the inky memories of the night before coming back to him in snippets. So was the headache and nausea of the ghastly hangover, however they did not come back in snippets, they came at him like a charging bull. Trent rapidly closed his eyes to help quell the nausea and the ambush of regret at spilling his soul to Brock. Not ever wanting to look at Brock’s face again because he knew there would be pity or resentment in those eyes. Trent just sat there, trying to figure out a way to avoid the kid on the 20 hour flight home they were going to be boarding later that morning. He was startled from his thoughts as someone cleared their throat. Hoping it wasn’t Jason coming to reprimand him about last night, because he knew Brock must have mentioned it to their leader; he simply was not ready for that reprimand yet. He slowly opened his eyes and realized it was much worse. So much worse._

_There that damn kid was, just standing at the opening of his cage with two coffees in hand. He walked over to Trent and handed him a coffee. As Brock approached him, he observed the kid’s eyes. Trent was surprised to see there was no judgment or pity, just real understanding._

_As Trent stared, lost in thought about what that meant going forward, Brock began to pack his gear for their return home. Never said a word the whole time, he moved about his cage like he owned the damn thing; putting all of Trent’s belongings in the duffels. Brock just gave a silent smile as he walked pass, carrying all their gear toward the staging area. Later that morning as they loaded the plane, Brock just settled silently by his side and for some reason it brought comfort to him, not regret or embarrassment. If it would have ended there it would have been fine, but it did not end there._

_Later that week after they returned home, Brock showed up at his and Sarah’s front door, an extremely excited baby Cerberus at his side, Chinese carryout in his arms. Brock made some excuse about his apartment being fumigated and asked if he could spend a few hours there. Brock never mentioned a word of their loss, or the bar incident, he just listened to them talk. Sarah drilled him with a million and one questions as they ate. Four hours later they were still talking about nothing, as Sarah played with Cerb. It was the first time that Trent had seen his wife smile in weeks._

_Brock did that every day for two month straight when they were home, he stopped making up excuses, which was good because he is a horrible liar, except when it comes to poker. Sometimes he cooked for them or brought dessert, but he let them talk, he listen, he let Sarah play, smile and laugh at the puppy antics of Cerb. Day by day their grief dissipated and was replaced with a new normal. For six long years Brock has kept the secret of their loss (and also the bar) to himself and Trent is beyond thankful for that, it’s a scar he is not ready to deal with yet and maybe never. Ever sense the day that Brock first spoke to him and the months to follow Trent knew he had a best friend. Three years later Brock even became the Godfather of his and Sarah’s first child._

So yeah, Trent felt incomplete without Brock and he was okay telling Sonny that. Clay was to Sonny as Brock was to Trent. The other completes them, they always felt out of sorts without the other. It became very obvious it was that way for Sonny when Clay was recovering. The team had to keep Sonny from doing things, that most of the time Sonny would have thought twice about, like punching Blackburn. Let’s just say Sonny would have lost his job if Brock would have been a half second slower at reading the situation. There was also more than one time Ray or Jason woke Trent at the wee hours of the morning to patch-up Sonny from his self-wallowing misadventures. Sonny’s destructive ways never changed until Clay was back in his rightful position; right next to Sonny, causing trouble, wreaking havoc and tormenting each other.

Trent shook himself from his self-monologue and stood stretching out his body. He looked over to where Brock was snoring away, the wheeze still painfully present. Cerb raised his head and wagged his tail, just once, just to let Trent know that his master was doing well, and then curled back into his master's side. Trent decided he would let Brock (and Cerb) sleep a little longer before he checked him over. So he started with one of the many other things on his mental list. 

He knew Lisa would be up at this awful time, because honestly Lisa and Mandy probably slept less than them, so he decided to meet with her first. Their inventory was flawless like always. Having a few minutes to spare he shared a cup of coffee with her and excused himself.

After leaving Lisa he made his way into HAVOC to go over the plans and maps, ingraining them into his brain, just in case. Mandy was already there (she may not have left) when he step through the door, coffee in her hand, nerves running amuck. 

“Hey, what’s eating at you?”

“There sending me off on another assignment in a couple of hours. “ Annoyance lacing her every word. 

“Oh, is that it?” Trent knew there was more. Lately this happen way more often than Mandy liked, but he has never seen her unnerved like this.

“No….It just feels like…I don’t know….like….I am missing something. I have studied the maps and satellites over and over all night and the movements feel….off, but I cannot put my finger on why. It’s just…….Ahhh.” Mandy groaned in frustration. 

“Do you think we can get the Ambassador to postpone his ‘tour’, at least until things settle down or until we get this figured out?”

“Believe me when I say I’ve tried. But you met him. His answer was an adamant ‘hell no’. He is all about saving face, and he only cares about his.”

Trent just gave her an insightful smile, understanding her feeling all too well today. He sat beside her, hoping together they could maybe figure something out but nothing came to them. Their unease still present as he bid her farewell and headed for the showers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos. Hope everyone is well.

Freshly clean Trent approached the barracks hearing movement within. A smile pulled at his face as he heard a hacking laugh coming from Brock, he was sure it had to do with Clay and Sonny razzing each other over something. As he opened the door he observed all the men up and about getting their gear in order. He observed a way too pale Brock still sitting on his cot, a hand rubbing at his chest, pain lacing his face but a smile still firmly in place. Some of the butterflies in Trent’s stomach fluttered away.

“Hey, where ya’ been?” Sonny asked as Trent entered.

“Just making sure things are in order. Going over some info….” Trent hesitated a minute trying to decide if he wanted to tell them about his unease. He thought better of it because at this point he was sure it had more to do with Brock than their assignment. 

“Well, we are going to go grab some chow for Brock and us, you want to join? Ray asked.

“Na. I think I’ll check on Brock before you all get back and then finish getting things in order here.”

“Suit yourself I am starving.” Clay patted him on his shoulders as he basically skipped out the door. 

Trent just smiled and shook his head.

“See you guys in a bit.” Ray said as he made his way after Clay.

“Toodles!” Sonny added as he hustled to catch up. 

Jason walked past them, freezing at the door and turning back towards them before adding “Brock, you listen to Trent.” 

“Yes sir.” Brock automatically responded at the given order. 

Cerb followed Jason out of the room with a sharp bark. Trent was pretty sure it translated into ‘you better or else.’

  
===============

  
Brock just sat back observing his partner as he busied himself getting things ready to examine him. Something was off, that was for sure.

“Hey what’s on your mind over there?” Brock inquired. 

“Hmm?” Trent responded with raised eyebrows.

“What’s on your mind?” Brock repeated followed by a rather painful looking cough.

“Nothin’.” Trent continued getting his medical supply in order. 

“Trent, we have knowing each other for over six years, I know you better than that. So what is on your mind?”

“Just worried.”

“About?…Me?” Brock asked quizzically. 

“Yes, of course it’s you. I hate not having you out there. You know that right?” The worry and annoyance in Trent's every word.

“Yeah, just like I hate not being out there with you guys…. You know you can fix that by giving me the all clear.” Brock gave him that sly smile. The one he always gave when he was up to no good, like when he purposefully helps Clay get Sonny riled up. And Trent might have just considered it, just to relax his nerves, if Brock would not have stood up and almost passed out at the slight altitude change. 

Trent swiftly by his side to balance him. “You good?”

“Yeah, just got a little dizzy.” 

“Yeah that’d because your still sick, ya moron.” 

“Thanks Captain Obvious.”

“Come here, sit down, and let me check you out.”

Brock quietly obliged, already grateful to be sitting back down. Obviously his body was not ready to be out there with his brothers. And as much as it hurt him to admit, he knew it was for the best. He would be a distraction and it would hinder his brothers. He would not put them in that kind of danger but it still hurt not going with the guys.

Trent listened to his lungs and checked his temperature. His fever was unquestionably down compare to last couple of nights but he could tell he still had a low grade one. He did feel a thousand times better than he had but he still tired easily and his chest hurt like a ton of bricks sat upon it. He knew Trent saw right through his fake bravado and he could not lie his way out of a paper sack on a good day. So he would do whatever Trent deemed necessary. Even if that was lying around the barracks for another day completely bored out of his brain. Without a distraction his brain would conjure up all the worst case scenarios, eating away at his insides until his brothers returned. 

“Okay, all finished.”

“Already? So what’s your verdict?”

“Still thinking. I want to go back to what we were talking about earlier.”

“What was that?”

“You know we worry about you and would do anything for you. Also you know you did not ruin anything, right?”

A sad smile graced Brock’s features and if Trent did not know what he was looking for he would have missed it. 

“Yeah I know.” Brock whispered with his head hung low. 

“What makes you think we wouldn’t? Have we hurt you that much?”

Brock head perked up quickly at that. A flabbergasted “NO, never” flew off his lips. 

“So what is it?”

“I…” they were quickly interrupted by Sonny entering the room, arms stacked with all kinds of different food. 

Trent stood leaning down to whisper in Brock’s ear “We are not finished here.” Then he continued over to Sonny to help alleviate some of the burden of food from his grasp. 

“I brought you one of everything. So you better eat up because you are way too skinny.” Sonny said handing a bacon bagel to Brock.

Brock just smiled up at Sonny. The thought and the smell of the food instantly turned his stomach. “Thanks. Where are the rest of the guys?”

“They took Cerb outside and Jason went to HAVOC to check in with Blackburn quick. He should be back any minute. So how is he doing today?” Sonny directed at Trent.

“ _HE_ is sitting right here and _HE_ is fine.” Brock retorted, followed by a round of body wrenching coughs. 

“Yep, so believable.” The eye roll was present in Sonny’s voice.

Trent just watched from a distance, waiting to see if Brock would silently ask for his help. Trent was slowly making his way toward Brock but was cut short by Cerb’s exuberant arrival, followed closely by the rest of the team. Cerb ran to his master’s side licking him on the face. Brock smiled, cough some more but was finally able to compose himself enough to regain his breath. 

“So how is he?” Jason asked.

Brock just rolled his eyes.

“He’s improving. Still has a fever. Not anywhere close to returning to duty yet.” Trent told the team while staring at Brock, reading him.

Judging by their early interrupted conversation and the look currently in Brock’s eyes Trent knew leaving Brock in a room by himself to just rest would do him more harm than good. So he continued. “You can go to HAVOC and observe; nothing else. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Brock just raised his eyebrows and gave Trent a mischievous smile.

“I’m serious Brock. Take it easy, rest before you need it, drink lots of fluids, don’t forget your meds and eat.” Trent did not miss the fact that Brock already stashed the bagel away with no intentions of eating it. 

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to explain to your dog or women that something happened to ya. They’re both terrifying.” Sonny added.

Brock just gave a coughing chuckle and announced that he was heading for the showers.

All of Trent’s instincts screamed for him to follow Brock as he shuffled out of the room. But Trent knew that would be too much for Brock at the moment. He knew Brock was done being poked and prodded and he was for sure done with talking, for now. He had to recompose and re-center and then maybe Trent would try again. It still pain Trent leaving Brock in the showers by himself. What if he passed out? What if he choked on water? He knew it was unlikely his second thought would happen because he wasn’t two after all, but all of the ‘what if’s’ went through Trent’s head, causing it to spin.

So when Clay also announced that he too needed to shower, his internal struggle disappeared and his gratitude to Clay grew. He was now forever indebted to Clay. Trent was sure if he could see Brock’s pale face it would have annoyance written all over it. But honestly Trent did not care about Brock’s annoyance. He just wanted to make sure that he was okay and there was help close by if needed.

“We leave in an hour. So hurry your ass up.” Jason yelled as they headed down the hall. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So since you all stuck with me thus far, I wanted to again say thanks. And also let you know the action will start to pick up in the next few chapters.

It had only been eight frustrating and tense long hours since they left Brock safely tucked away in HAVOC with Lisa and Blackburn. The sun was just beginning to set, peaceful shades of oranges dancing across the sky. However none of their emotions were peaceful in their convoy. They were hot, sweaty and exhausted and it was beginning to show.

Sonny, Clay, Trent and the Ambassador’s right hand man, who Sonny decided he would call _Fred,_ because Clay with all his fancy language skills was the only one able to pronounce Fred’s actual name, were stuffed in the lead vehicle, supply and emotions balanced precariously around them. To make matters worse was, as Clay would put it, Sonny was in one of his ‘fabulous’ moods. 

Sonny was pissed off at Clay because he lost his chance to drive over a stupid game of “Rock, Paper, Scissors”. He was annoyed at the brutal heat and the fact that he didn’t understand why the hell they were on this ‘god forsaken’ assignment. He had not stopped griping about one of those things for over eight hours. Sonny knew it was supposed to be an easy in and out but he kept announcing to them that his ‘Spidey senses were a tingling’. As much as he may complain about trivial matters, when his ‘Spidey senses’ were on alert; it was best for everyone to keep their head on a swivel. Honestly they were all at their wits end with this mission. It had felt off since the beginning. 

As they proceeded further away from the Embassy the butterflies fluttering in Trent’s stomach only intensified to full out flapping as time passed. The Ambassador was being an ass. Big surprise there. His constant rerouting and changing of the itinerary were throwing their preparation and plans further awry. None of it was setting right with Trent, add on the fact that Sonny’s ‘Spidey senses were a tingling’ and Mandy’s earlier agitation, he just wanted to puke.

Clay noticed Trent’s trepidation as Trent check on the tale vehicle, containing Jason, Ray and the Ambassador, for at least the hundredth time.

“Everything okay back there?” Clay asked Trent from the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know but this feels off like maybe….”

Trent’s words were cut short when an explosion detonated the adjacent building. That is when all hell broke loose.


	11. Chapter 11

_1700 HAVOC, Tripoli, Libya_

“How’s our boy doing?” Lisa asked Cerb petting his head as she walked towards a sleeping Brock.

“I’m awake you know.”

“Yeah, but I thought I would get a more honest answer out of Cerb.” Lisa paused observing Brock’s still to pale features. “So how are you doing?”

With a shrug of his shoulders Brock responded “Feeling useless. I hate sitting here doing nothing, while they’re out there doing something. I don’t know how you guys do it….” Brock’s words were clipped off when he saw the shock and hurt on Lisa’s face.

“No, no, no…. not like that…. You guys are NOT useless…… Sorry….. You guys are more vital than me. Most of the time I’m just a fifth wheel.” Brock quickly added.

“Apology accepted…..Don’t sell yourself short Brock. You’re not a fifth wheel, you mean more to that team than you could ever imagine.”

“Actually literally I am the fifth.” Brock added with a sly smile.

A smiled pulled at Lisa’s face.

“I hate not being out there, not having their backs. When I’m out there, if something goes wrong, at least I know that I, we, will do everything to save each other or …. At the very least I will die with them this time.” His finish was almost inaudible.

“I don’t think I can lose any more brothers Lisa…..,” he whispered, tears evident in his eyes, but never falling.

Lisa could see all the haunting raw emotions of the past cross his face and it tore at her heart strings. Brock not one to openly share emotions with just anyone, Lisa actually felt honored that she was among the select few that he let in. Even if it was only on a very rare occasion and his walls where worn thin with illness.

The gratitude Lisa felt at Brock’s emission of his heart was short lived when Brock closed with “and this whole assignment feels wrong.”

Dread came flooding into Lisa’s body, washing over her like a sudden cold downpour. Pairing Brock’s statement with what Mandy had mentioned to her earlier before she left about ‘something feeling off’ and combined with her already unsettled nerves, it felt like she was mule kicked in the stomach.

“What do you mean by _wrong_?”

“I don’t know….Earlier I was looking at satellite photos and then started thinking about the timing of this, paired with the civil unrest because of the drought and things just don’t add up. It feels like the perfect storm is brewing.”

“What do you mean about ‘timing’?”

“Eid al-Fitr, the peace talks, the drought and the increasing instability in Syria and Egypt.”

“Continue.” Lisa was trying to figure out where Brock was going with this. It was one of his patterns that nobody else could see. 

“Doesn’t it seem like there are a lot of people here to protect an ambassador? I know there could be more, but this is a routine in and out for almost all ambassadors, in far more unstable countries than this.”

Lisa stopped to think about the non sequitur before adding “Yeah, it seems a bit much.”

“I know the Ambassador has made more enemies than friends; with his change in aid distribution and him meeting with several perceived corrupt government officials. Tracking the movements of the vehicles and the fact that they're circling areas where the Ambassador regularly visits.”

Lisa had a hard time following Brock’s thought pattern but she could see all the gears moving and engaging as he talked his way through his random thoughts.

“I think with the holiday and all the public gatherings in the gardens, it would be a perfect time to cover your tracks if you wanted to try something.”

Lisa just stared at him with awe until she added “You figure all that out from looking at satellite photos.”

“Well, I’ve been doing a little light reading of those _thrilling_ reports on your desk.” He gave her an absent smile before finishing with a haunting “I think we need to brace ourselves.….They know something and aren’t tell us….They’re using us.”

“Who’s coming and who’s using us and for what?” Lisa asked, still confused at Brock’s rambling.

“Not sure who’s coming but they are organized. As for who’s using us and for what, our government is using us as deterrents. See if they can cut the head off the snake and scare then the rest back into submission…..” Brock paused as his eyes were pulled to the screens, watching his brothers turn down an alley way; a shiver ran down his spine, he really was hoping it was from the returning fever “….I think it’s a coup d’etat and they are coming for us.” His words were monotone yet laced with panic.

Those final words had everything clicking for Lisa. Fear grabbed her spine and twisted, her legs going numb, bile rising in her throat.

“Shit…We’re not prepared for that. We have to let them kn…” Lisa was interrupted when HAVOC was plunged into inky blackness.


	12. Chapter 12

_Outside of Tripoli_

With their vehicle stopped behind Clay’s, Jason looked back towards the Ambassador sounding like a broken record as he explained to him that they could not change the itinerary again. His repeated extended explanation was halted when he heard an explosion and debris pummeling down on and around the lead vehicle. 

“What was tha….” the Ambassador was cut short when Jason interrupted him.

“Shut up!” sternness and fear in the leader’s voice. “Ray contact the lead, see if they’re good. I’ll try Davis to see if she can get a path out of this kill box.”

“HAVOC this is Bravo One come in…..HAVOC this is Bravo One, do you copy?” panic rising up his throat at the oppressing silence that followed his calls. Jason faced Ray, eyebrows raised with concern, silently conveying his worries about the lack of response and at the same time asking about his team.

“They’re good. Informed us they’re blocked from going forward. We have to turn around. Man, I feel like we’re sitting ducks here.”

Jason agreed. Knowing Clay would follow him without an order, Jason threw his vehicle in reverse, trying to get out of the situation or at least in a better area for defense. They made it less than fifteen meters before another deafening explosion sounded, blocking their rear exit. Now they were truly in a kill box. No way in, no way out and no way of telling where the enemy was. The three dimensional advantage that the enemy had from above left them genuinely screwed. There was only one way in and one way out that gave them a chance of survival and Jason hated it.

“Bravo Six we’re goin’ have to go on foot. We’ll move first, you guys try laying cover fire. Did anyone see where those RPGs came from?”

“Copy. All we know is they came from above.”

“Shit. Okay. On three”

“Affirmative.”

“One…two…three. Move, Move, MOVE!”

Ray, and Jason rolled out of their vehicle dragging the Ambassador behind them. Bullets whizzing by their heads, chipping the road below their feet, way to close for comfort. Clay, Trent and Sonny trying all they could to protect them from the invisible enemy above as they zig-zagging their way towards what they hoped was relative safety.

Heaving with adrenaline and relief as they safely passed the opening of an abandoned disheveled store, it may not look like much but Jason knew it was their saving grace. Taking a second and mentally checking his body and his current party’s bodies for any new holes. Sucking in much needed oxygen he looked back through the opening at their stranded brothers, searching for the shooters. 

“See anything?” Jason panted to Ray.

“Not yet, but we can’t leave them out in the opening any longer.”

“Six you guys ready to move?”

“Affirmative.” Barley undetectable fear in that one word. No one but his brothers would have ever realized it was there, crawling its way towards the surface.

Whoever says a solider or a sailor isn’t scared in a situation like this is just plain wrong. They are just better trained at hiding the fear and using it to their tactical advantage. Jason sized up the situation. The facts of the battle and the probability of survival only made his fear more corporeal. There was no straight line for passengers on the driver side to get from A to B. They would have to hole-up and regroup and then move again, giving more time for the enemy to reload. Each one of the SEALs knew this was going to suck but they had to move or it would suck a whole lot more.

“We’ll lay cover on three, then you guys move.”

“Copy.”

“One….two….THREE.”

Jason and Ray laying cover, watched on with apprehension as Trent and Clay flew out heading right and Sonny and Fred heading left towards their current location. The hands around his heart and throat loosened ever so slightly as Sonny and Fred ran passed them into the comforts of safety. Jason was still watching for Clay and Trent to reach shelter of their closest building. Dread washing over him, physically making him sick. He heard a prayer come from Ray, thinking that maybe he should join in, but all he could do was try to find the enemy and take them out before they took out his family.

Sonny poked his head up next to Jason’s, breaths heaving as he asked “Did they make it?”

“Yeah, now we just have to get them here” his relief was short lived. “Shit….INCOMING” Jason screamed into the comms and then watched in terror as an RPG hit the building that Four and Six just ran into.

Ray was quickly on the comms, “Four, Six, you good?”

“Four, Six?”

Ghostly silence was their only response

“Dammit answer us!” Sonny bellowed.


	13. Chapter 13

Trent laid face down in the dust, debris surrounded him. The ringing in his ears, disorientating, the acrid smell, nauseating and the pain that raced through his body, momentarily unbearable. Letting out a huff of pain he decided he needed to slow down and remember what just happen. Closing his eyes he breathed slowly in and out, repeating the process until the pain was bearable. Flashes of memory came flooding back to him.

“Shit…Clay! CLAY! Where are you? Ya’ hurt?”

Silence and pain answered him. He tried to move but his breath and thoughts were ripped from him as agony overwhelmed his senses. He realized, for the first time, a chunk of building was lying on his back. He knew he had to move to get to Clay. Sucking in a breath to prepare for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow, Trent pushed, twisted and rocked his way out from where he was entombed. Vision greyed as pain flared. Lying there, practicing slow calculated breaths, trying to muster all his will to regain control of his battered body. His eyes fell shut as time and memories slipped away from him. 

Panicked eyes flew open, no idea of how much time had passed. His brother's face flashed into his head as he remembered he did not come into this building alone.

“CLAY!.....Come on kid, answer me.” He coughed out as dust settled into his lungs.

“CLAY!?”

His heart broke as every second ticked away without response.

“Clay!”

An eternity had passed before he heard a muffled, weak “Trent” from his left.

“Clay…that you? Keep talking to me kid. I’m coming to get ya’.” Steeling his nerves he pushed up onto his knees, climbing over debris, shoving chunks out of his way as pain sizzled through his body; he continued in the direction of his brother’s voice, knowing there was not another option that he could live with.

“Clay, you still with me? How ya’ doin’ buddy?”

There was a pregnant paused before Clay responded with a confused “I don’t know.”

“I’m almost there, just hold on.” If Trent’s body did not hurt so much he would have jumped with glee at the recognizable mop of unruly blond hair that came into his vision.

“There you are. Just hold still. I am going to get some of this stuff off of you. Can you tell me where you’re hurtin’?”

Trent made quick work of the debris around his little brother’s head. Watching as Clay’s face contorted in thinking and pain.

“Ummm….Is everywhere an acceptable answer?”

“No..not really. You’re kind of starting to sound like Brock there.” Trent replied with a breathy chuckle.

Clay’s responding laughter was cut short with a moan of pain.

“Head?” Trent inquired.

“Yeah. It kinda feels like someone used it for a piñata.”

Trent pulled out his flashlight from his tactical vest “Okay. Let me have a look.”

Trent flipped on the light, watching Clay jerk as jarring waves of misery ran through his head. 

“Sorry kid, but I have to.”

“Mmmh.”

Trent took that response as permission. Lifting each of Clay’s eyelids, it was not a surprise to see that his pupillary response was sluggish. Trent continued to hold the flashlight, as he lightly probed his brother’s head. Clay released a painful yelp when Trent came to rather nasty looking laceration on the back of his head, it probably could use a few stitches but it could definitely wait until they could properly clean it. 

“Know where we’re at?”

“Yeah.”

“Elaborate….”

“A hellhole.”

“No arguments there. But do you know the country?”

“Libya.”

“Good. How about the date?” Trent reached for Clay’s wrist to get a pulse rate.

“No. Do you?”

“Good point.” Trent responded after realizing with everything that had happen in the last week he had no clue what the date was, yet alone the day of the week.

“One more…Who’s the president.” Trent asked as he ran his hand over unburied limbs and ribs, satisfied that nothing shifted below.

“Of what country?”

“Let’s go with France, you little smart ass.”

“Macron.”

Trent just chuckled to himself. “Of course you would get that right.”

“Any nausea?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, the good news is nothing is obviously broke. Bad news is you have yourself a nice little concussion, that’s for sure. I don’t think it’s that bad but we’ll need to get you checked over once were back. But first things first, let’s see if we can get out of here.” Trent went for his comms and it was the first time he realized they were not on his person.

“Hey, you have your comm on you?” 

Trent watched as Clay reached an uncoordinated hand toward his head and then patted the ground until he founded the comm resting nearby and then handed it to him.

As Trent moved the comm to his ear he heard the panicked voices of his brothers come into focus.

“Four Six, come in.”

“We’re here.” Came Trent’s raspy response.

“You guys good?”

“Mostly.”

“Thanks God…Can you two get to our location?” The release of tension evident in Jason’s voice.

“Six got his bell rung, but yeah…I think so. Just give us a few to get situated. ” Jason did not miss the pain that flowed through Trent’s voice.

“When you’re ready we’ll lay down cover, then you guys move on the count of three.”

“Copy.”

\--------

Ignoring his own pains Trent rushed to finish unburying Clay. Shifting debris off his brother, he took inventory of every scratch and bruise that was visibly forming on the kid’s body. As the last piece of rubble was tossed aside he sighed with relief. They were extremely lucky. Yes they were banged up but they were very, very fortunate.

The only real injury the kid had was his head, sure he would have a headache and he’d be sore for a while, but if there wasn’t an underlying brain bleed, which with all his experience he doubted, Clay should be back to operational within the month. As for him, he knew for certain, once they got out of this, he too would be sore as hell. He could also tell from the pain that zipped through his back every time he moved, or breathed, or even thought about breathing, that his back was going to be a plethora of colors come morning.

“Hey, I’m going to clean and bandage your head. I want you try to drink some water before we move, okay?”

“Yea” Clay mumbled as he clumsily retrieved the canteen of water Trent handed him.

As always Trent made quick, painless-ish work of his brother’s injuries.

“Ready to get up and reconnect with our family?”

The only response that Trent received was a headshake followed by a regretful moan.

“Yeah… ya probably shouldn’t do that.”

Clay just shot pathetic unfocused daggers with his eyes at Trent; which only left Trent laughing.

“Up an’ at em’.” Trent said as he reached down lifting Clay to his feet. 

The quick movement left both Clay and Trent panting in pain. 

Clay actually composed himself first and had enough awareness for the first time to see his brother’s distress. “Are you okay?” he inquired.

“Yeah, just bruised to hell is all, and kind of stiffened up.” Trent’s responded, rather unconvincingly. Or at least it would have been unconvincingly if all of Clay’s senses were fully intact.

“Let’s let our brothers know we’re ready.” Trent continued after taking another glance over the kid, making sure he had enough equilibrium and was sturdy enough on his feet to move.

They stumbled their way over to the one opening that was big enough to allow for a rapid exfil towards their brothers. Settling in to place Trent spoke in to his comms “We’re ready when you’re ready.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Copy…On my mark….Three… two...one. Move!” The rapid gun fire exploded the air. 

They watched on in dread as Clay and Trent stumbled across the clearing, trying to dodge bullets. Three-fourths the way to safety Clay released a yelped, immediately falling to the ground grabbing for his leg. Trent not missing a beat grabbed the pull strap on Clay’s vest and dragged him the rest of the way to the team’s position.

Trent had no time to take in his own discomfort, as his back screamed in pain, he needed to see where the kid was hit. He could hear the guys around him asking him a dozen different questions, tuning then out, quickly compartmentalizing and focusing just on Six. Trent’s eyes traced Clay’s body, his ears listening for clues, his hand holding and feeling his baby brother. Clay’s uncontrollable shaking crack Trent’s armor and the gasping breaths, and fresh pain scribbled on Six’s face, shattered it. Nevertheless he had to continue. Slowly he let his eyes leave Clay’s face and followed Clay’s arms to his hands where they were grasping a bleeding leg wound.

“Hey…you gotta let me take a look.” Trent soft tone floated into the air.

Clay just looked at him, eyes caught in a flashback and terror.

“It’s okay…I got you.” the tone delicate and reassuring, a voice a person’s uses to coax a scared puppy out from under a deck.

Trent continued his mantra “It’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re doing great….That’s it, just keep breathing focus on my voice.” Fearing the worst but praying for the best, he carefully removed Clay’s hand from the wound. Silently thanking the gods above for answering his prayers. 

“It’s just a deep burning graze. Don’t even think it’ll need stitches, but it’s sure gonna hurt.” He could hear and feel the emotional releases of his brothers from above him as he announced the verdict.

“Look at me!” He gently ordered Clay, trying to get him out of his brain and back into the present situation.

As unfocused eyes met his, he continued “I know it hurts like hell but you’re going to be fine. I just need you to focus. Sonny, can I get you over here?”

“What can I do?” Sonny begged into Trent’s ear, looking for just an ounce of self-worth so he could help his brother.

“Just breathe with him, talk to him, his brain’s a little foggy right now.” Sonny agreed with a nod.

Turning his attention back to Clay, Trent continued. “Okay, just focus on Sonny’s breathn’. I am gonna clean and dress your leg. Then I am going to check on your head again. You hear me?”

A breathless “yeah” came from below. Trent took one last look at Sonny encouraging him to keep his brother breathing and then he began. As he irrigated the wound with the medical supply he had on him, he could hear Sonny quietly coaching Clay to “Breathe through the pain, Goldilocks”. A smiled pulled at Trent’s lips as he caught Sonny out of the corner of his eye running a hand through Clay’s curls and “completing” him, grounding him back to Earth. Grounding them both back to Earth. 

“You did good kid.” He told Clay as he finished.

Trent moaned as he painfully stood, taking a moment to pause and look down at the kid, _their kid_ , before walking away, leaving Clay in Sonny’s capable arms. Heading towards the table where the rest of his team was, he thanked the gods above for letting them survive thus far. Once there he emptied his pockets, taking inventory of the minuscule amount of medical supply he had on him since the first explosion. He did not like what he saw. He had two doses of acetaminophen, a few field dressings and vials of sterile saline, and a small suture kit, which he was thankful that he hadn’t had to use yet on Clay, because without a sterile environment all he was asking for was a nasty infection. No IV’s, not enough gauze and not nearly enough pain killers; man, he could use some of them right about now. If nothing else went wrong he should be fine. But yeah, like there was even a remote chance that they all make it back to the Embassy without the other shoe falling.

Trent was jolted from his thought when Ray laid a hand on his shoulder asking “How is he?”

“Pretty good. Concussion, bullet graze to his lower left calf, confused but doing better. All things considered he’ll be fine.”

“And you?” Jason added.

Honestly Trent did not know how to answer that. Physically he hurt like hell. Mentally he was as frazzled as he could ever remember. With Brock and now Clay, his mental stores were finally starting to be depleted. He did not know how much more he could compartmentalize without something or someone suffering at his self-incompetence. He would kill to be back at the Embassy in a hot shower, then bed, where he could shut the world out and regain control over his emotions. But they had a mission, to get the Ambassador back to the Embassy; he had a mission, to make sure they all made it back alive. So with careworn eyes he finally responded to Jason. “I’ll be okay….So, what’s our ETA for the QRF?””

The returned silence was all he needed to hear to know that the other shoe just fell.

\----------------------------

“They’re not coming.” Jason fatigued eyes met Trent’s.

“What do you mean ‘they’re _not_ coming’? He can move but we're at least eight miles from the Embassy. There’s NO way that ….” Trent gestured toward Clay “… _he’s_ making that on foot. Hell, if what we saw just now is any indication…there is no way _we_ are making that. Get HAVOC back on the damn line and **demanded** it.” Trent refrained from completely shouting but still the anger and fear were evident in every word.

With kid-practiced gentleness Ray informed. “That’s just it Trent…We haven’t been able to reach them since the first explosion.”

Trent felt the bile rising burning his throat, nausea rolling through him.

“Brock…Lisa…Blackburn….Brock….?” Trent sputtered as anxiety stole his breath and his equilibrium.

Ray watched Trent stagger as realization of the situation took hold. He quickly steadied him with a carefully placed hand on the injured man shoulders. “Slow down, just breathe….We just need you to breathe. We’re going to make it back to them…It’s going to be okay.”

With strong arms still firmly placed on his shoulders, a short time passed before the fog lifted and Jason’s concerned voice cut through.“Ya’ okay?”

“I’m okay…I’m good…Yeah…sorry. It’s just…….” Body and mind painfully uncoiling from themselves, as he tried to convince and explain to himself and his brothers that he was really okay.

“No need to explain, we know.” Trent looked up meeting Jason and Ray’s eyes and he knew that they did.

“Do we know anything? Do we have a plan?”

“We got this covered. Why don’t you go check on Clay and rest a bit? Because honestly brother, you look like shit.”

“Yeah….Thanks.” Trent was beyond grateful, because if he was honest with himself he was feeling less than ideal. The ache in his body only burrowed in deeper as he grasped the whole situation.

As Trent trudged his way towards Clay, he heard Jason add “Send Sonny this way when you get there.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and Kudos. They bring a smile to my face, when at this time is sometimes hard to find. So thanks from the bottom of my heart.

_HAVOC Tripoli, Libya_

“What just happened?” could be heard from all around in the relentless darkness.

“HEY, LISTEN UP!” The room fell into silence as Blackburn’s thunderous voice echoed off the walls. “Stay calm. Generators should be on soon…Lisa where are you at?” 

Lisa and Brock, directed by Cerberus, made their way towards Blackburn’s voice. “Here” she spoke.

“Do you know what happen?” Blackburn asked.

“No, but Brock may have a theory. He thinks they are coming for us, trying to over throw the government and its supporters; which happens to be us.”

“Shit! Do you know who?” was Blackburn’s only answer.

“No, but I would say sympathizers. We know there has been growing opposition against the current Prime Minister.” Brock responded.

“You’re sure Brock? What makes you think that now would be the time?”

“No I’m not sure, but it makes sense with the timing, with everything that has been going on in the area. Also I just have a gut feeling.” The visceralness of his words echoed in the darkness.

That is all Blackburn needed to hear. If Brock had a feeling that rocked him to his core you better listen. It would rank up there with Sonny’s ‘Spidey senses’. The unknown bad guys were coming and they were going to come hard. Just then the generators powered on, casting the room into an eerie, haunting green hue, adding to direness of the situation.

This was a simple security assignment, the _easy_ kind, not the ones where you ended up fighting for your life. Blackburn knew they had protocols for this but his brain, moving faster than hummingbird’s wings, was trying to hash out the best plan for survival. He needed to protect his team here and out there. He needed to make sure Embassy’s staff, along with the Ambassador’s family, made it into the safe room across the compound. He needed to destroy sensitive information. He needed to contact his team and change the mission, so they would not walk into a trap. But most of all, he need to get his eyes and ears back so he could see the situation fully. So he could get the help they needed. Even though he feared that help was too far off to prevent the inevitable. 

“Lisa, see if you can get comms and ISR back up. Try to get ahold of the team in the field. Brock, follow me.” Blackburn ordered before heading to a secluded corner of HAVOC, Brock following closely behind.

Blackburn turned staring at Brock. “I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?”

Brock answered with an assertive nod. 

“Are you okay to do this? Because I am going to be leaning on you hard, both physically and mentally; and if you’re not able to do this I need to know now so I can adaptive my plan.” Blackburn paused to take in _his kid_ , he still looked pale and exhausted but compared to what he looked like on the plane, there were no comparisons. He knew what Brock’s answer would be before the younger man spoke. He just hoped it wouldn’t be the man’s undoing.

“Yeah, I’m good to go.”

“Knew you would be…..I guess we should get started. We need to get the non-essential personnel round up and into the safety shelter on the other side of the Embassy's grounds. Then I guess we need to get the supplies we need there so we can protect one stronghold and not two.”

Brock began to turn to prepare, the uneasiness present in his movements, but Blackburn grabbed his shoulder. “Brock, they’re going to be okay.”

A small smile just grazed his lips, before he continued on his way.

Now, Blackburn had to believe his words himself.


	16. Chapter 16

Potshots could be heard outside the door of the storefront, intended to keep them in place not to kill.

“Do we know anything? Like why we ain’t all dead. We been holed up in here forever now and they could’ve taken out the whole damn building with that launcher.” Sonny asked, a whole in the pit of his stomach, as he stared over at Trent and Clay resting.

“All I know is, if they wanted us dead, we’ve be dead. They want something…or someone…and I’m gonna assume it’s not one of use.” Jason supplied as he glared toward the Ambassador and Fred huddled up in the corner.

“We need to figure out what is going on here and how the hell we are getting back to the Embassy.” Ray interjected.

“Yeah and to do that we need to find someone that might know something that we don’t….. I think that someone or _someones’_ are setting right over there.” Jason tilted his head towards the Ambassador and Fred.

“Jace, what’ya thinkin’?” Sonny asked.

“I am thinking that one of them set this goddamn clusterfuck up. Now, we need to know which one, how big and for what.”

“Ray, you go up on the roof, see if you can take out those shooters. And while up there see if ya’ can find a way out of here. Sonny and I have some work to do down here.” Ray immediately turned and head off thankful for the distraction of the new assignment.

“And Ray….” Ray paused and turned back towards Jason, eyebrows raised in query “…be safe.”

“Will do brother.” Ray acknowledged before he headed off.

\------

Trent regretfully lowered his body next to Clay’s, taking in the kid’s appearance. He was bruised all to hell, exhaustion wrote on his face. However Sonny looked like he accomplished what he needed to accomplish. Trent could not read the kid’s eyes because they were closed, but his face looked calm and grounded. Trent snaked his hand to Clay’s pulse point on his wrist and was reassured by a slow steady pulse. Trent was startled from his count as he heard a mumbled “Thanks.”

Looking back up to the Clay’s face, Trent was met with less confused eyes. Trent just gave him a sad smile. “How ya’ doing?”

“Better….Trent, I mean it. Thanks.”

“No prob’, just doing my job.”

“Sorry …for…over reacting” he whispered the end.

“Nothing to worry about. You’ve been through a lot in the last hour. Your body and brain just needed a little time to sync up, that’s all. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine”

“So, what’s the plan for exfil?”

Trent looked back to the table now occupied by only Sonny and Jason. He did not want to worry a freshly calm Clay by launching into an explanation about them being at least eight miles from the Embassy, with no way to get there but to walk, not being able to get HAVOC on the comms and not having a remote idea of what was actually going on in the streets of Tripoli. So he supplied a simple “They’re working on it.”

“Are you okay Trent?..... Are you not telling me something?” Clay asked taking in the haggard look on Trent’s face.

“No. I’m fine. Everything’s good, why?” Trent lied and it physical added on to his growing pain.

“Because ya’ look like shit.”

“Pot, meet kettle. Get some rest kid” Trent patted Clay’s shoulder while leaning his battered back against the wall with a groan and closing his eyes.

“You too, you t….” Clay was asleep before he even finished his words.


	17. Chapter 17

_HAVOC Tripoli, Libya_

Brock returned from his third trip across the Embassy. His lungs on fire and body screaming for rest, but he needed to keep going, he had promised Blackburn he could handle this. He had also promised Trent to take it easy. However, he thought Trent might give him a free “get out of jail” card because after all it was life or death. He just hoped his body would give him that same free pass too.

“Okay, times up people. We need to move, you have three minutes.” He heard Blackburn announce as he entered HAVOC.

“What’s it look like out there?” Blackburn asked as he made his way over to where Brock was resting his head on the cold cinderblock wall. Blackburn could see that the fever was back and Brock was almost done for. He just needed him to hold on a little longer.

“Not good. The shel…..” he was interrupted as a coughing fit left his knees buckling. Blackburn helped him slide to the floor.

“You okay?” The concern thick in Blackburn’s voice.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and continued where he left off. “The shelling is getting closer. They have breached the south wall according to Lt. Martinez, some of the Marines have moved over there for reinforcement. Still it will be a matter of minutes before they are totally on us here. We are going to have to make this last trip in a rush.”

“Well then that is settled.” He told Brock before he stood, offering a hand to help him to his feet. “Listen up! It’s time to move people, grab your gear and follow Ensign Davis and PO1 Reynolds, I’ll grab the six. Stay as tight as possible and heads on a swivel. Let’s do this ladies and gentlemen.”

The fear as they breeched the door into the enemy's territory was almost palpable. 800 meters from HAVOC to the hopefully impenetrable safe room, but it was the longest 800 meters that Blackburn had to ever move. Weighting down on him was the fact that most of these men and women with him have never been this close to the enemy; they had seen the enemy and felt the fallout but it was always from behind the safety of the screens. The responsibility of getting them there alive was as heavy of a burden as it was for Atlas to hold the world, the weight seem to slow down their progress. 

800 meters slowly turned into 700 and then 600…then 500…400…300…200…He could see the door now, he allowed himself to release the air from his lungs. But that was the mistake, he let his guard down for just a tenth of a second and it cost them. 

The shot came out of nowhere, the bullet sliced through him like a hot knife on butter, the pain immense, stealing his hearing and with it his equilibrium, buckling his knees. The ground approached him fast. Next thing he knew was Brock yelling and shooting at an enemy, which he could not see from his position on the ground.

“I got you.” He heard Brock wheeze out as he grabbed and dragged him the last 100 meter into the safe room as gunfire erupted around him. 

His world blacked out on the edges; then came back into focus as he heard a horse wheezing voice talking to him and soft hands were patching his excruciating shoulder.

“I’m good to go.” He said as he tried to stand, a firm hand pressing him back to the ground, as his world tilted on its axis.

“Like hell you are!” Lisa hissed worry evident in her voice, but also a strength of confidence, that made Blackburn so damn proud of her.

Maybe he wasn’t okay, but he had to make sure everyone else was and that they were accounted for. 

“Did we get ever one? “ Blackburn asked as he sucked in a sharp breath as he felt bones shift beneath as Brock applied the final bandage and arranged a sling.

“I have one of the civilians taking a roll call.” Lisa informed him.

Just then in the background they heard a mother’s wail asking if anyone had seen her son. The voice was recognizable to Blackburn and Lisa as Patricia the Ambassador’s wife.

“Lisa, go get her and bring her over here. Brock, sit down before you fall down.”

Brock slide down beside Blackburn as Lisa returned with Patricia and her oldest son Nico, all of eight years old. So that meant that her son Miles was missing, he just turned five yesterday, Sonny smuggled him some cake. _Shit_ , _why’d it have to be a kid_ , Blackburn thought.

“Patricia, I need to know where you last saw him.” Blackburn said as he was helped to his feet by Lisa. 

“Oh my god….how did I not notice sooner. I thought he was with Nico playing, but when I saw Nico and Miles wasn’t there…. Oh my god what kind of mother am I.” The distress flowing through her rapid words.

“Patricia! I need you to calm down and focus.” Blackburn tried to get through to the distraught mother. He would never really know how she felt because he did not have children himself in the traditional sense. What he had were fully grown children that he put into extreme danger on a regular bases, after a while you learn how to shut off that part of your brain because if you left it on for too long your job would be over before it truly started, as would your team. However with this Bravo most days it was a nearly impossible task to separate the sailors that marched themselves into his life from his _family_ , so maybe he had an idea of what the mother was feeling.

“Patricia. I need you to know that we are going to do everything we can to get him back safely.” Those words seem to clear the mother’s head just enough for her to give him what he needed.

“Umm…” tears were pouring down her face, her words choked but she continued “He was in his bedroom on the second floor, east wing of the main house...He should had come down with Nico, but Nico said he was napping. He’s had a bit of a cold.”

“That’s good, Patricia. That’s good. Can you excuse us for a second?” Patricia left, clinching Nico in her arms, a firm motherly embrace, to not only support him but also her in their time of need.

Before Blackburn could even speak, Brock was standing in front him announcing “I am going to get him.” The conviction firmly in place, there was no doubt that Brock meant every word.

“Brock, are you sure you can handle this, because you don’t look so good?” Lisa wanted him to say no but she had been around enough Bravo men to know that tone.

“I have too…Who else does he have?” he paused to cough.

Turning to stare at Lisa, reading her body language. “No Lisa. I know you want to go. Hell, I want you to go with me. But you need to stay here, with Blackburn out of commission you’re the next in line. They are going to need you to keep them calm. Most of them already trust you with their lives. And all the Marines are tied up with the enemy.”

“I know.” Those two words were probably the toughest words of her life. She inhaled and then continues “But I am going on the record as ‘not liking this at all’. And when Trent finds out I am not going to save your ass. You hear me?”

Brock smiled before going to Patricia to retrieve some more information about Miles' last know location and to study the blueprints of the Embassy. He thanked anyone that was listening that some grunt grabbed those blueprints.

“Blackburn, I really don’t like this.” The anxiety was growing in her stomach.

“Me neither.”


	18. Chapter 18

_Back to the Hellhole outside of Tripoli_

Jason walked over to where the Ambassador and Fred sat, kicking their shoes. “Getup! We need to talk.” Vengeance tinged his words.

Jason and Sonny frog-marched the two over to the table, forcibly sitting them down in chairs; where they began their interrogation. 

Jason and Sonny might not be trained interrogators like Mandy, but they made quick work of them both. Jason thought if he was on the other end of Sonny’s death stare he too would spill everything he knew.

It was concluded that the ‘Ass’ knew nothing, but had pissed off Fred so badly that he joined the opposition and was working from within. They were going to overthrow the country’s government by getting rid of the Prime Minister’s biggest supporter; the US government. He and his party planned a coordinated attack to abduct the Ambassador and hold him for ransom, earning money for their cause. At the same time they would ambush the Embassy to capture his family for leverage and acquire any information that they could use against the Prime Minister and Ambassador, disgracing them from power. They hoped for minimal resistance, thus for, resulting in minimal casualties. However, they did not expect the Ambassador to pull strings and get Special Forces involved, but they did not have time to change their plans, so they were just attacking. They also did not plan for the prolong drought setting the entire population on edge and egging them on at the first sign of defiance toward the dysfunctional government.

 _Shit they were truly screwed,_ was all Jason thought as Fred’s words came into focus as the enormity of the situation unfolded.

Jason’s mind was brought back as he heard Ray rushing down the steps.

“Everything good there Ray?” Sonny asked.

“Umm…yeah” He paused to catch his breath. “I think I took out the shooters, but it looks bad. People covering the streets because of the holiday, and the tensions are rising from within as the minutes pass…We are going to have to move soon or there’ll be no exfil.”

“Well it gets worse. They are attacking the Embassy too.” Sonny added nonchalantly.

“Shit! Brock and the team?” Ray exclaimed.

Sonny shook his head in response to Ray’s question.

“Yeah I know… I am open to any ideas. Because Trent is right, the kid is not making that whole journey on foot.” Jason paused to look over at a sleeping Trent and Clay. Clay’s head resting on Trent’s shoulder, both of them looking done in for. “Hell, I doubt Trent can make it on foot right now too.”

Ray trying to piece together every piece of information that he had from the briefing and from what he observed from above, came up with only one plan and it was not going to be easy.

“Ray?” Jason questioned when he saw the cylinder engaging and locking into to place as a plan formed.

“From above I had a pretty good view. The streets are a mess of people. I think most of them are out for the celebration but I recognized a fare few had weapons….Ummm, there was a parking lot on the maps from earlier about 3 klicks southeast of here, which should take us away from the main crowds. If we can get there, we could get a car. Then we could hopeful circumvent the routes to get us back to the Embassy and get everyone out.”

“Well that’s more of a plan then we had 5 minutes ago.” Sonny hollowly joked.

“Yeah and I thinks it’s probably the best we’re going to get…..Sonny, go wake the Sleeping Beauties over there. Help Trent make sure they are good to move. Ray, go back upstairs, check to see if anything has changed. I will get the Ambassador and Fred ready and gather our gear. Be ready to move in ten.”

“Can we just kill Fred now?” Sonny asked, and there was not a drop of sarcasm in his words. It sent a shiver down Jason’s spine.

“No, but he will pay. We’ll do the next best thing. We’ll hand him over to Mandy.”

“That will have to do.” Sonny and Ray spoke at the same as they left for their assignments.

\----------------

Trent was startled from his painful slumber as Sonny creepily woke him up by staring at him.

“What’s going on? Is everyone okay? Clay?” Trent scrambled to get up, his body instantly hating himself. Pain flew threw his back as he struggled to stand.

“Whoa, slow down there Speedy.” Sonny lent a hand for support as he caught sight of the medic’s groggy, unsteady movements. “Everyone is fine….,” pausing to give Trent a minute for that statement sink in “We just have some new information and we need to move. Jason wants us ready in ten, but first he wants to make sure Blondie and you are good to move.”

Trent ran his aching arms down his face, trying to dust away the cobwebs of sleep and the remnants of fear. “What new information?”

As Trent performed a quick cognizant test on Clay, happy that Clay’s status had not change in the time that he let his guard down, he listen to Sonny explain what they had learned. He threw a quick glance over to where Jason was with Fred, and was surprised not to see a scratch on the man, because if the tone of Sonny’s anger was anything to go by Fred should be dead. As Sonny continued to explain, pieces were starting to fit in place, he remembered seeing that parking lot on the map, it was a dubious plan at best but it was giving him hope that he could get Clay back to the Embassy and get him the help he needed. That hope was tore out of his chest when Sonny mentioned that the Embassy was also a target. His stomach contracted painfully at the thought of Brock and the team being ill prepared for an assault. 

Trent heard Sonny ask him a question but he was too lost in thought to comprehend. “Hmm?”

“I asked, if you and blond Sleeping Beauty are okay to move?”

Trent paused to take one last long good look at Clay. The confusion was less in his eyes, he seemed to be back with them, but he could tell that the kid’s head was killing him. His leg was red and slightly swollen under the new bandage, not a surprise with trauma that it had experienced. The nausea also most have increased since Sonny had helped him to his feet, because he had a green tint to his complexion. He really wished he had something to give Clay for the nausea, but all he could do was offer him some useless acetaminophen, praying it would alleviate enough of the headache that the kid could at least make it to the lot, before he collapsed on them.

“Yeah, I think he is good. However it is not going to be as fast as normal. He’s probably going to need help with that leg.”

“That’s Clay, what about you?” Sonny maybe the redneck from the south but he did not miss Trent’s avoidance of his own health.

“I’ll be fine…” Trent paused at the exasperated look on Sonny’s face before admitting, “I may be a little slower too.”

“I’ll let Jason know. Get ready to move in three. And Trent, you take some of that Tylenol too.”


	19. Chapter 19

They made it three whole blocks before Clay stumbled for the first time, the gun in his hand useless. Sonny quickly caught him before he face-planted on the cobblestone alley that they were slowly slinking down. _Oh so painfully slow._

“You okay little buddy? Sonny asked.

Clay’s pained expression was the only answer that he need. “Trent!”

The team stopped in their tracks at Sonny’s call, panic arising in all.

“What’s going on Clay?” Trent asked as he emerged by Clay’s side.

Clay was bent, hands on knees, gasping for air like they just finish run ten set of hills, and he was green to say the least.

“Sonny, I would move if I were you.”

Sonny looked at Trent before comprehension took hold. He was able to side step the stream of vomit that came from Clay’s mouth. Still supporting him, Sonny rubbed his back and offered words of encouragement, yet he felt solely inept.

Trent performed his assessment in the alleyway, checking pupillary response making sure he did not miss anything; mentally going through the check lists. Balance, reflexes, coordination, all were off, so check marks there, as was his concentration, but he had a suspicion that was more to do with his pain level than the concussion; memory, speech, hearing all intact. Moving on to the symptoms check off: nausea big ol’ check mark there. Also checkmarks for dizziness, fatigue, light sensitivity and headache. Only thing that had changed from Trent’s initial exam after the explosion was the vomiting, which was reassuring. He knew that the strenuous activity was not doing Clay any favors, hell it probably wasn’t doing him any good either, but he also knew it would not make his symptoms worse. Well maybe the vomiting; that is the problem with being vertical with the world’s worst headache. Trent took a quick peek at Clay’s leg to make sure it was not bleeding or looking more infected, sensing Jason standing over them, waiting for Trent’s answer to his unspoken question; to proceed or to retreat and see if they could get any call out for help. 

Trent did not have to reply to Jason’s question before Clay straightens and states “I’m good, let’s get to the Embassy before we can’t.” Clay, still green at the gills, but seemed more in control of his body.

“You sure?” Sonny asked concern on his face and in his words; concern that his best friend is not as good as he thinks he is.

“Better out than in, as Shrek would say. I really do feel a little better now that it is out.”

“Trent he might have hit his head harder than you think if he is quoting Shrek.” Sonny ribbed.

Jason took a glance at Trent; Trent just shrug his shoulders in surrender, because there is really nothing they can do for the kid until they get somewhere, where if found half the population would kill you on the spot. Jason’s just nods his understanding, then orders, “Y’all heard the kid. Let’s move!”

They moved through alleyways and streets, doing their best to avoid the natives. They would really, really like to get to that lot without incident; an incident would draw attention, then a crowd and that would be the end of the half hatched plan.

\-- -------

Three klicks, taking three lifetimes of heartbeats. Nervousness increasing with each beat. Nervousness at the not knowing what was going on around each corner, yet alone the city, or that Embassy they so desperately needed to get to. They avoided all of Fred’s people’s known ambush points and any strong holds that he knew were in the city. So far no trouble, just the normal resident on the way to temple or holiday gathering completely oblivious to their presence or they simply did not care; it wasn’t an uncommon sight in recent days to see armed soldiers in the street. But still their nerves were on edge, constantly checking with HAVOC but they were still silent. Without ISR and the disembodied voice in their ears offering direction and silent encouragement there was a feeling of loss and panic.

Masked panic decreased by the weight of a single grain of salt as they turned the corner and the lot came into view. Jason looked at his watch, the knot in his stomach tighten. Trent wasn’t lying when he said it would be slow going. They had to pause almost every ten minutes for Clay to regain his orientation and his guts. Not the kid’s fault but damn, they were running out of time.

It took them an hour to move 3 klicks. They normally could do 8 without feeling rushed. They still had to ‘borrow’ a car and make it six-ish miles through the crowds, which they knew were going to only get worse as they approached the Embassy. The last klick would probably have to be on foot if Fred’s information was accurate.

They approached the end of the alley, Ray taking point clearing the way, subduing if possible, eliminating if needed.

For once luck was on their side. They made it all the way to the lot without incident. There they found an old commuter van with darken windows. They piled all seven people in as Ray made quick work at hotwiring the starter and bringing the van purring to life.

“I’ll drive. Ray keep trying to see if you can get HAVOC on the radio. Trent….” Jason paused and actually looked at Trent for the first time since they left. And boy, did he looked like crap. “…Trent just keep Clay and yourself alive until we get to the Embassy, please. Sonny you watch Fred.”

“With pleasure.” The veil of sheer hatred was pulled all the way back in Sonny’s voice.

“Sonny, don’t kill him.”

“I’ll try my best.” His words were not convincing.

Jason shot Sonny the ‘I mean it’ look before he added. “Okay. Let’s move.”

\-------

The crowds were increasing and becoming more violent as they approached the Embassy. Half way there they heard the best sound ever; the sound of Davis’s voice on the radio, repeating a warning over and over again.

“Davis, that you?” Ray asked.

“Oh thank god.” Ray heard her yell ‘it worked’ to somebody before she asked, “Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“We’re okay. We’re about three klicks out from the Embassy. It’s not looking good out here.” Ray informed her.

“Here either. We got almost everyone to the safety shelter. Blackburn was shot. He is going to be fine,…I think. He has looked better….”

“Ray, ask how Brock is.” Trent spoke from the back.

“Davis, Four wants to know how Five is fairing.”

The silence of her response was all that Trent needed to hear to know that Brock did something stupid and he was not there with them. His stomach painfully contracted, sending a new agony through his back. “Dammit Brock! I am going to kill him.” He announced.

“No you’re not.” Sonny whispered in his ear.

Davis quickly informed him that he left Cerb behind to help comfort Nico and then went out to the main house to save Miles, who got left behind by accident. That lessened some of Trent’s anger. But it did not help with Sonny’s as Trent heard him whisper in Fred’s ear with the most menacing voice possible. “If anything happens to that little boy or Brock, you will wish you were dead.” The Ambassador’s face echoed Sonny’s words. Fred almost looked regretful for the first time since this happened.

Trent heard Davis’s recounting there situation and that they had finally got a call out for help but the QRT was still over an hour and a half away and that they were still without satellites and drones. Dread washed over him, the same as it did his brothers. They sat there in silence as Jason maneuvered around the crowds. Finally the silence was broken when Jason spoke.

“Hey guys, we are coming up on the point of no return. We are going to have to go the rest of the way on foot. Are you guys up for that?” Jason’s question was directed towards all of them, but was meant for Trent and Clay.

“We’re good” was the unanimous response, the exhaustion and pain still there but now repurposed to determination. Determination to get Blackburn and Davis out. Determination to get Brock and Miles to safety. Determination to save those civilians. Determination to get out of this hellhole.

There was a new determination on the Ambassador’s face. It was the determination that a parent had when it came to protecting their child.

The Ambassador looked Jason in the eyes and for the first time since they met, all of his personas were gone. There was no more royal ‘assy-ness’ or ego, just determination to protect. For the first time Jason was seeing the Ambassador as a real person and a father. And for the first time the Ambassador respected the SEALs and knew they would give their lives for him and his family, so he knew he could do the same. “If you give me a gun I can help.”

Jason just nodded and handed his Glock and his two extra clips over. The words of ‘thanks’ communicated in their eyes. 

Fred just stared at the Ambassador. He may hate the man for ruining his country but he could never hate his children. “I will help too, if you would have it.”

Jason just stared at Fred, reading the inner workings of their Judas. The desire to fix his betrayal was seeping out of his pores and Jason may hate him but he trusted that the man wanted to fix some of his mistakes. “Sonny, give him a weapon.”

Sonny just stared at Jason, mouth gapped. Jason just shook his head. “Just do it Sonny.”

“Don’t think this makes us even.” Sonny told him as he handed Fred his extra gun.

“Okay, you four in the middle.” Jason indicated to Trent, Clay, Fred and the Ambassador. “Ray and I are on point. Sonny you bring up the rear.”

They maneuvered the crowds like a well-oiled machine. They avoid the worst of the chaos, moving forward and backtracking when needed. In and out they moved, only pulling the trigger once. They were making better time this klick than the ones on the way to the van. 

They were a half klick away. Clay was looking more rested and steady; his gun look like it had a purpose again. Trent was looking worse but Jason knew as soon as they had Brock in sight the man would most likely look instantly better, or at least he hoped. The others all looked determined and ready to kill all that came into their way.

They turned the last corner and that is when they heard it, and felt it, and tasted it.

The explosion that would steal their souls from them. The explosion that Jason was sure had just killed their counterbalance.

As debris rained down on them Jason heard Trent screaming.

“NO! No, no, no, no….Brock, you better not be in there.”


	20. Chapter 20

Brock snaked his way through the halls, blueprints running on a loop in his brain. He heard a sound to his left and quickly eliminated that tango. With every step his body was regretting him volunteering for this assignment, but it was the only way he could live with himself, because it was a five-year-old. A _fucking_ five-year-old _._ Five was way too young to see the horrors of war. So he would push his body through the pain so he could save that little boy and keep a family from going through the worst possible thing imaginable. 

As he turned that last corner he saw the bedroom door and a tango about ready to breech into the child’s haven. He didn’t hesitate; the tango was dead before he even knew Brock was there. Brock kicked the tango’s body away from the door so he could enter where his HVT should be. Praying that the kid was there and unscathed. Because right now he did not think his body or his brain could handle another rescue op. He longed for his brothers by his side and prayed for their safety. The unknowns of their mission and their status were almost impossible to deal with but he would bury them down, just like he has so many times in his past.

Slowing pushing the door open and clearing the room. He looked around until he spotted the child. He was sitting in the corner of room curled up tight, hands covering his ear, rocking back and forth in fear. It shattered him, because he knew his gun shot did this to him.

Brock composed his nerves; he needed that kid to trust the big scary man with the loud weapons. He let his guard down because any man in full SEAL mode would be terrifying to any child, yet alone a scared child. He switched to the voice he used with Ray and Trent’s children. Where was Sonny when you needed him, he was so much better with children than him and Brock knew that Miles already liked Sonny from all the stories Sonny told about him.

“Hey, little buddy. Are you hurt?” it was the gentlest tone he could muster with his hoarse voice.

His question was answered with a sniffle. The kid didn’t scream and bury himself further into his own body, so he took the win and continued.

“I’m Brock, what’s your name? ....” Brock notice the dirty stuffed rabbit in the kid’s arms “Who’s your friend there?”

The kid barely moved but lifted his head; honey-brown eyes alive with fear met his, snot and tears running down his freckled face dripping off of his chin onto his button-down green shirt. Curly tangled red hair, hung down into his innocent puppy eyes. Brock’s heart splintered with every sobbed breath the child took. This kid was too young for this, but he needed to get him to trust him because time was running out.

“I think I met your brother Nico, he is with your mom and my friends. They are safe from the bad guys. I just want to take you to them. Can I do that?” Before Miles could answer Brock launched into a painful coughing fit, which stole his breath and his vision.

“Miste’, awe you okay?” the small voice asked, bringing Brock back.

Brock cleared his throat and then plastered a welcoming smile on his face, before responding, “Yeah, I just have a bit of a cold.”

“I have one too...” Miles reach into a pocket pulling out a crumple, probably slightly used tissue and handed it towards him. “Do you need a tissue?”

Brock wanted to laugh at the soft tones of worry and kindness in Miles’ voice, because he, a kid of all of just five, worried about a man he just met and handing him rather disgusting tissue. Sonny wasn’t lying when he told him that kid was so naively innocent and sweet. The world was still black and white to him. There were good guys and bad guys and there was right and wrong and nothing in between. It was the only way a child could see the world or they would never be able to grow old because the grey would swallow them whole. Right now Brock hoped that Miles would consider him a good guy.

“No thanks, little man. I’ll be okay.”

“My name is Miles.” Came a timid voice.

_Yes! A win for the good guy._

“Nice to meet you Miles. Would you mind if I took you to your mommy.”

“I want to see my mommy.” It was not a cry for a mother, just a simple fact that he wanted to see his mom. The fear was in his eyes not his words.

 _I bet you do kid,_ Brock thought to himself before he spoke out loud.

“Okay, we will go. But I need you to promise me two things. One, you will be super quiet. You can whisper in my ear if you get scared, but very quietly. Okay?” Miles just nodded eyes wider than a puppy’s, mouth slightly open as the information absorbed in. “And two, you’ll keep your eyes closed all the way until we get back to your mom and my friends. Can you do that kiddo?” Brock did not want something this sweet to be spoiled by nightmares at the mess on the other side of this door.

“Yes sir.” Miles replied.

A soft nasal laughed came from Brock at Miles’ reply. He was already more obedient than Sonny on a good day.

“Brock is fine, because we are friends.” That earned a smile out of Miles, one that could make anybody’s bad day instantly better. It was one of those excited smiles a child gives when they met a person they instantly know they will be friends with forever.

“Okay Bwock… Can I bwing Kitty?” The soft ‘r’ in his name brought a grin to Brock’s face.

“Who’s Kitty?” Brock asked, slightly confused, his mother never said anything about a family pet.

Miles just smiled and held up his stuffed rabbit.

Brock shrugged, who was he to judge a toy’s name. “You bet! …Are you ready to go?”

Miles just nodded, excited to have his best friend (and new best friend) with him on this journey.

Brock bent down and picked up Miles, surprise by the lack of mass behind his delicate features; he probably weight less than their average week long rucksack. However, Brock’s exhausted body felt all of his weight pushing down on him. But the responsibility of getting this child to his family alive was the heaviest weight on his body at this time; it may have been the heaviest weight he ever had to carry.

As Brock and Miles advanced towards the door, his gun and senses on high alert, Miles just stared at him, trust beyond comparison in his eyes. Then he simply asked “Do you know my new fwiend Sonny?” his bright smile lit up the room at the mention of Sonny’s name.

“Yes I do.” Brock could not keep the smile out of his own voice. “And I bet by the time we get to your mommy and brother, he will be there with your dad.” _At least he hoped they were._ Miles smile only got brighter.

“Okay, remember what I told you to do?” Brock added.

Miles just nodded, squishing his eyes as tight as he could. Then he whispered, almost inaudibly into Brock’s ear. “I am weady Bwock.”

The weight of responsibility only grew as they walked out into the unknown abyss.

His gut was churning, with nerves and fear that he has not felt in a very long time on a mission. His heart was beating in his ears. All five senses (will maybe four because his sense of smell was not working great at the moment) were on high alert. Every sound that echoed off the cold marble floor sent a shiver down his spine. The soft warm breath on his neck from his most precious cargo added to that shiver.

His heart picking up a click with every step they took; too far to turn back now, but way, _way_ too far for them to be safe. 

He heard a sound in front of him, around the corner. Gun raising he whisper in Miles’ ear. “Miles, I need you to plug your ears.”

He felt the kid quiver in fear, and then adjusted and obeyed without any protest or question, trusting Brock with his soul.

Brock poked his head around the corner, shielding as much of Miles’ small body behind the wall as he could. Spotting two tangos: _blinking.…inhaling….pulling the trigger….exhaling….repeating_. Everything happening in a tenth of a second; he downed them with the trained precision and accuracy of a Tier One Operative. The brave little soul in his arms never made a sound, just the slightest flinch at the cracks of the gun.

“You’re doing so good, Miles.” Brock whispered as he gently removed Miles’ tiny hand from his ears. He kissed the top of his forehead, tears hanging unshed in his eyes. His heart was splintering even more now. “You’re doing _so_ good, lil’ buddy.”

He felt the weight of the world slamming down on his shoulders; the weight of failure and what ifs. What if he failed to protect this precious soul, unjaded by the horrors of the world? What if he made it but he left him so scarred by the real world he forgot how to live? How was he going to make it to that safety shelter without ruining that innocence that shined in his precious trusting eyes? He had no idea, but he was going to do all he could, or die trying.

They made it all of fifty meter, when Brock felt the air change. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and then, he felt nothing.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the reviews and Kudos.

“NO! No, no, no, no….Brock, you better not be in there.” Jason heard the pleading words come from Trent. He did not have the strength to look over at him; he knew he would be his undoing. Those eyes would hold so much grief and sense of failed responsibility if Brock was truly in that area of the Embassy.

Jason heard all their collective inhales. He felt all their fear at the uncertainty of what they may find. But he also heard motivation, duty and honor of not leaving a sailor behind. That code was ingrained into their blood. They would hold their ground against the enemy until helped arrived; until they could get to their brother, if he truly was in there. But Jason knew; the hollowness in his stomach told him they would be digging through their worst nightmare, praying they would be able to find just a part of him to take home and bury. He inhaled, steeling nerves and burying grief, he exhaled. Then he moved forward handing out assignment.

\----

They held their strong hold for forty minutes. Protecting that breached wall for the civilian lives inside, with every drop of fuel they had left in their tanks. For hope that they would find everyone unscathed; knowing in their heart of hearts that was probably not true. But they fought and fought, until they heard it; the sound of their savior. The sound of a ‘Yankee’ coming in from the east. The helicopter specializing in close war support was able to take the enemy numbers down to a manageable amount. Ten minutes later ground support from the rear joined them. Five minutes after that the remaining standing tangos were retreating and the haunting silence of war prevailing.

Now they were fighting the intangibles. They were fighting against time. They were fighting for hope because they did not want to believe against it. They were fighting for a miracle.

It would be the hardest war they fought as a team and a family.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning. This chapter may be a bit painful but unfortunately this is the reality of war, we lose friends and family, brothers and sisters, so that we can keep living our life.

Brock opened his eyes to blackness. The taste of blood, plaster and explosives on his tongue, head pounding without mercy, breath heavy and painful, ears buzzing with painful echoing silence. Mind not knowing where he was or what happen. A mind that left him with feelings of intense failure, sadness, hopelessness and loneliness. A mind that left him with that overwhelming feeling that nothing would be good again, nothing would be worth living for. He could not recall why but it was on the edge of his scrambled mind; _it_ was lurching in the darkness, ready to consume him when he realized what _it_ was.

Thoughts and images were ricocheting off the inside of his battered skull every time his heart beat. Bouncing too painful and fast for him to grab on to and make sense of. They were glimpse of colors, of greens and cooper reds, then the sound of a women’s voice and then tears. Then flashes of a smile and then a bunny. Then those honey-brown eyes brought Brock’s brain back into a semblance of focus.

“Miles!” he breathed.

He tried to move and gasped at the red hot blinding pain that radiated from his hips and then out through every nerve ending that was in his body. The pain stole all his sense, memories floating away, ears going quiet and eyes going dark as he closed them tight praying that the onslaught of pain would decrease so maybe his lungs would remember how to breathe.

Slowly the pain dulled and his battered lungs were able to draw in a stunted breath. He slowly opened his eyes and observed the tomb around him. There was dust still settling onto his body and into his eyes. There were slivers of light that passed through the endless disaster that surrounded him, making him feel a little less claustrophobic, something he did not even realize he was scared of. 

After sometime his ears came back on line, the painful living buzz of silence was slowly replaced with crackles and crumbles of falling debris. He could now hear the firing of weapons outside that sounded familiar to him but he knew they were still too far away to help. Then he heard a sound of a quiet plead, a soft whimper.

“Bwooock?”

Now everything came rushing back to him again in a soul crushing painful force.

He turned his head. Praying that the child would be unharmed, knowing it was unlikely. His eyes came into focus at the sight that left his world crumbling worse than the building around him. There less than five feet away laid a broken, batter, fragile little child, just out of his reach. His red hair was caked in dust and blood. His little chest had debris strewed upon it, stealing a full breath away from him, resulting in painful little chokes of air. His eyes were wide with pain and fear, but still trusting and vibrant with life.

Brock needed to get to him so he could hold him and make all that fear in those eyes go away. He swept his arm desperately through the dust, and stone, hands catching on metal and tearing as he tried to move his shattered body just an inch closer. He had nothing left to give him, not even an inch at this point. However that was not an option. So, he stretched his arm out as far as he could, ignoring the pain because that was not important, what was important is that he made contact with that precious little beautiful boy and alleviating just one of those emotions from a face that was too young to express them.

He was five, too young to understand the evil in the world and too young to realize that Brock had failed him. His trusting eyes burrowed into his heart as the child sought solace, assurance and comfort.

Brock tried again. Just one last time to get that one inch closer, so he could touch him and give him the will to keep fighting to breath. He clawed his nails into the debris that was scattered in front of him and pulled with all his strength, he felt fingernails tear and skin rip, but he could not care, his reward was right there. He moved a deplorable centimeter.

He tried again and again, each time getting a fraction of an inch closer. And each time losing himself to the pain that was firing through his body. Again he did not care, Miles was right there and he needed to make contact. That is all that mattered. It was all he needed in this world. And if he died in here at least he would be holding his _friend_. 

Finally his bloody fingertips brushed against something soft. It took his battered brain a few seconds to realize it was warm skin. His world faded a little as the relief sank in. 

He rolled his head so he could see the kids face again. His eyes were open again and staring through him, not judging but asking if he was going to be okay. Asking Brock if he would ever see his mommy again. Asking what was happening. Asking why.

He knew he had no answers for the child because even in his head, the head of a grown man that had seen so much violence in the world, it did not make sense.

“Hey, kiddo.” They were the only words that formed in his dust choked mouth. He felt something run down his face, he reached his hand that wasn’t preoccupied in Miles’ fingers to it, bring his hand away and to front of his fuzzy eyes he was surprised to see it was not blood but it was tears. Tears he did not even know he was shedding.

Miles just look at his face, the concern in those young eyes was palpable beyond his years, and said in the most broken tone that would haunt Brock’s dreams forever, “Awe you okay Bwock?”

‘Bwock’ was spoken in that same searching tone as his eyes. The tone searched for some solace and comfort. And Brock wanted to give it to him so badly but he did not know how.

So he held onto the tiny fingers, using them to ground his crumbling world and replied “Of course I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. How are you? Are you hurting anywhere?”

Brock heard the wheeze in his chest echo in Miles’ as the kid processed through his injuries.

“My chest and my leg weally hu’t.” He coughed out the last word and sucked in a breath and then winced in pain.

Brock felt his heart crack at the pain expression on Miles’ face. Brock tried to roll his body and head a little closer so he could actually see Miles completely. All it resulted in was him losing a chunk of time as his world went dark with pain that blossomed through his chest and pelvis.

“Bwooock!” the child’s worry cut through his foggy brain.

“I’m okay….sorry about that. Just give me a second.” He told Miles breathlessly.

Brock steadied his breathing and steeled his nerves at the pain that he knew was coming, he tried again to pull himself closer to Miles and this time he made it a whole three inches. It may not be much but now he could rest his hand on the kid’s arm and not just the tips of his fingers. It was the added comfort both of them needed. It also allowed Brock to see Miles completely.

It was the first complete look that Brock got of Miles’ broken form. His face was still bloody and covered with dust. His chest was still covered with too much unreachable debris for Brock to move. But now he could see his legs, and it made him want to puke. Miles’ right leg was bent at almost a straight ninety degrees about three inches below the actual joint, the white bone shining in the dust that scattered around. _What was he supposed to do? It’s not like he could get to Miles, his own body was broken and trapped. And even if he could he wasn’t a medic, he would have no clue what to do unless Trent or Evan were telling him what to do._

“It hu’ts.” He heard Miles cry as he tried to shift away from the pain. It made him even sicker to his stomach.

“I know it does buddy. Just try to hold real still, take long slow breaths. Follow me. In for four….one…two…three…four. Out for four…One…two…three…four. There you go. Keep counting with me and keep breathing.” There is not a time or a place in this world that you should have to coach a kid how to breathe through the pain.

Slowly Miles regain control over his pain, his breathing was still wheezy which made Brock suspected that he had broken some ribs too. Brock and Miles laid in silence as Brock try to come up with anything that would help the little guy. But he had nothing. He wished he could pick up the child and take away his pain just so he didn’t have to see it on the kid's face. He knew that was a purely selfish reason, but he didn’t care. Miles’ eyes were too much for him to stare at; they were wise, kind and mature beyond his years but still had that innocence of a child. That innocence is what made him wanted to take all his pain away and comfort Miles, just to make him feel an ounce better. He really wished he could check on him and dig him out just to let him breath in a little bit easier. Instead he had to settle just for the touch and the feel of the rapid thready pulse under his fingers on that tiny wrist. 

Silence prevailed for a time as he listened to the muffle shots echo outside and his eyes lay fixated on that small child. The internal struggle of trying to come up with any way to get him out of here rebounded around his head. Most of his thoughts were to unfocused for him to grab ahold of and make sense out of, as the pain in his head dialed up to an almost insufferable level. His brain was brought back into focus when he heard Miles’ voice.

“Bwock?” That voice was just too sweet to express the fear and pain that lay behind it.

“Yeah Kiddo?”

“I’m sowwy.”

Why was this kid apologizing to him? He should be the one apologizing. He is the one that failed to protect the kid. It was his only job and he failed.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For bweaking my pwomise. I should have kept my eyes closed.” The tears of guilt now were present in the child’s eyes.

Brock wanted to closes his eyes at the painful numbness encroaching upon his body. He realized he may not want to open them again. Just keep them shut and then maybe this hell would disappear. He had watched friends die. He lost his best friend and he could do nothing to help him and here he was again in the same situation. But this was incrementally worse, because now it was a child. A child that did not understand the true evil that lay outside of these crumbling walls.

“It’s okay Miles, you did nothing wrong. Don’t worry about that now.”

“Awe you mad?” That same pleading look asking for forgiveness still shinning in his eyes.

“I could never be mad at you.” That haunting look in Miles eyes had diminished slightly and it was all that Brock could ever ask for. He just needed that kid to be a kid, not worry about things he could not control.

“Bwock, I have a question?” Brock laughed slightly, there was that normal five-old that had a million plus questions that Sonny spoke of. He would allow any questions that Miles wanted to ask if it meant that it keep him talking and alive.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you have a mommy and daddy?”

“Yes I do. They live far away from here and I don’t get to see them nearly enough.”

“Oh, you should visit them mowe.” He stated matter-a-factly.

“Yes I should.” It was so true. He had not seen his parents in almost eight months. He made a point to talk to them as much as he could but still, you never know when it would be over and it would be too late. Too late to tell them one last time how much they mean to him and that he loved them so very much. Time is never guaranteed and today it is just proving it to him again. 

“Do you have a bwother?”

“No, but yes. My friends that you met the other day are like my brothers. They pick on me and torturer me and they make me a better person.” Brock finished with a painful cough and groan.

“Awe you okay?”

Brock just simply nodded, right now talking was too much. However that nod was almost too much for his head as stars blossomed behind his eyes. As the minutes ticked away his head was becoming less focused as the headache grew to the worst migraine that he could remember ever having.

Silence followed for a short time as Brock composed himself. Then he heard the innocent voice ask “Do you have a favowite?”

Brock actually released an airy chuckle at the kid’s innocence.

“I guess I would say Trent is my favorite, just by a sliver though. But I really love them all.” Brock coughed some more, it was starting to get harder to breathe; the weight on his chest was growing. He was hoping it was from the pneumonia but he feared his own broken ribs may have nicked a lung when he pulled himself those last three inches. He had to refrain from talking so he could catch his breath some, so he asked Miles a question. “Do you have a favorite brother?” Brock knew the answer because he only had one sibling, but he also knew from his time with Ray and Trent’s kids that a simple question could turn in to a two hour long story. He hoped they had two hours.

“Of couwse it’s Nico, silly.”

 _Really_ , _that is all he was going to get of Miles, five words_. So Brock followed up with his favorite question of all time, “Why?”

“Because he’s my only one....” he stopped to take a wheezy breath and then continued “….and he plays with me and when I am sca’ed he lets me sleep in his bed with him. Sometimes he mean though and he takes my toys and hides th…” Miles was interrupted by a series of painful coughs. Brock tried to coach him through the pain but it was to no use. He could see the fear and the tears on Miles’ face, his heart cracked a little more, all he could do was hold his hand and try to ground him. When they finally abated Brock notice blood on his chin that was not there before. _Shit this could not be happening,_ was the only though that ran through his head.

“You doing okay Miles?”

He just nodded his head. They sat there in deafening silence as Brock ran his bloody hand up and down the part of the arm that he could reach. “Just breathe, just breathe.” He kept whispering, _please_ was his unspoken prayer.

Time slowed until he heard Miles speak again. His voice was weaker than before and more breathy. “Bwock….do you have a giwlfwiend?”

“Yeah I do. Her name is Evan.”

“That’s a boy’s name.” Miles whispered with a small laugh, obviously it was too painful for him to speak now.

Brock just chuckled, this line of questioning reminded him so much of Jameelah when she found out about Evan. “Yeah it is, her real name is Evanlyn, but her big brother, Ezra, wanted a brother so he started to call her Evan and it just stuck.”

“How’d you met?”

Honestly he did not want to get in to that story now, it brought up way to many memories and emotions; emotions of failure and regret and guilt. So he simply stated “I met her brother first when we served together….” he left out the part that Ezra died on a failed mission similar to this one, where they were betrayed and both laid trapped and neither one could help the other because they were unconscious. That day he lost four of his closes friends, the worst was Ezra though. They met at basic and both became inseparable; bonding over Midwest farm traditions, family similarities and sports. They shared endless pictures of their families and their animals that they left at home. Still to this day it pained him that he did not get to go to their funerals, because he lay unconscious in a foreign land. Right now he wished he was unconscious because he could not stand to lay here and listen to Miles gasp for every breath, he was _fucking_ five-year-old. Brock inhaled and added “…..then I met her when she saved my brother Trent’s life.”

Minutes of silence passed before he heard a long painful inhale followed by Miles’ voice trembling in pain as he asked the question, “Do you like he _w_?”.

“Yah, I love her.” Was the only reply that would come to him. His emotions were starting to take over and win. _What if he never saw her or his brothers again_ flashed through his mind _. Would they take care Cerb? Would they know he love them?_ Also, Brock could not keep the fact that he was lying here less than three feet away and watching a _fucking five year-old_ die. Every time he looked at those wide blinking eyes they were questioning him. _Why does it hurt so bad? When will I see my family? Why can’t you help me? Why **won’t** you help me?_

He had no answer that he was willing to give a five-year-old to those unspoken questions. But he needed Miles to keep talking, so he asked the one question that had been on his mind since he met that kid.

“Miles, why did you name your rabbit Kitty?”

“Because he is soft like a kitty.”

“I guess that make sense.”

“Bwock you’re my favowite fwiend, like Sonny.” His words now were barely above a whisper.

“Sounds like I have some big shoes to fill.” Brock choked out between painful sorrow-filled breaths. Under his fingers on Miles’ wrist he could feel the threadiness of his pulse, the guilt constricted his throat further.

Miles release an airy laugh.

“Help is on the way. I can hear them coming.” It wasn’t a lie, the gun fire outside had now ceased, and he could hear shifting rubbish and muffled calls. He wanted to scream back but his lungs and body were too weak to speak above a whisper himself.

Silence flowed like the pain through his body until Miles spoke again.

“Bwock?”

Brock looked at Miles, a tiny barley five-year-old just lying there, batter beyond repair, yet he was so beautiful. He was like a fresh canvas; at first blank, then as time went by, vibrant colors of the world were splashed and brushed and splattered on to it and then mixed into a beautiful unique self portrait of the person who painted it. His canvas was not full, now it probably never would be, Brock feared. But his life was like da Vinci’s ‘Adoration of Magi’, uncomplete, with so much potential, yet it was still beautiful, without words, and leaving an impression that would last a life time.

“Yeah kiddo.”

“It’s okay.” Miles slowly reached his tiny fingers around Brock’s bloody ones and gave them a weak squeeze. The trust still in his vibrant innocent eyes.

 _Oh hell_ _no_ it was not okay. There was nothing okay about any of this. This should not be happening to any one, yet alone a kid that just celebrated his fifth birthday. “I’m so sorry.” Brock whispered as his tears fell freely.

“Bwock?” his name wasn’t even a whisper now, it was more a breath.

“Yeah.” Brock choked out through his guilt-closing throat, because he knew what was happening even if Miles could not fully comprehend it. It shattered his heart into a million little pieces. He was sure they would never find all the pieces so he could repair his heart, if he lived. Right now he did not want to live. He wanted to draw in his last breath before Miles so he would not have to watch.

“I’m…..” he gasped. Brock watched his vibrant eyes lose focus.

“No, no, no, no, keep breathing Miles! **Keep** breathing….Help is on the way. Come on kid!.... I need you…..I’m what?..... I need to know what you are? Come on. COME ON MILES!” Brock kept begging for Miles to keep breathing. He watched that chest rise, then fall.

_Rise…._

_Fall…._

_Rise…….._

_Fall…….._

_Rise………_

_Nothing._

The eyes, that less than an hour ago, had so much love, life and vibrancy and trust in them, now lay dim and lifeless.

The kid would never lose his first tooth; he would never go to kindergarten; never have his first kiss or high school dance; never find love. He would never get married or have a child to pass on infinite wisdom and love. Those thoughts were Brock’s undoing. He did not care if he died here because life no longer made sense. He knew that should make him feel guilty about giving up and leaving his family behind but he couldn’t because he failed and nothing else mattered. Those vibrant eyes would never be vibrant with life and joy in the littlest of things again. They were going to stay dark and lifeless, just like he felt.

He surrendered his consciousness over to the darkness, as his heart and soul slowly shattered like his body. The last thing he saw was those beautiful lifeless eyes. The last thing he felt was those tiny little fingers growing cold. The last words he spoke were “ ’M so sorry.” The last thing he heard was Trent screaming his name.

Then nothing.


	23. Chapter 23

They would dig for Brock, they would dig for Miles, once Davis regretfully informed them that Brock and the kid were somewhere in that rubble. There was just no other place they could have been.

Trent heard Davis’ whispered words of encouragement and prayers through his comms.

He heard Clay informing him he was going to get Cerberus to help search for his master. He took one quick glance at Clay to make sure he was still stable, but that is all he could afford him right now. Sonny must have seen that glance because he quickly informed him he would go with him. He watched Clay limp away just a half second longer and threw up a silent prayer himself to anybody that was listening to make sure the kid was okay and protected.

Trent putting his aching body by the wayside, dug through the debris, tossing plaster and marble to the side. He could hear his heart pumping blood and adrenaline through his body, just to keep it going. Just to hold on to hope, just a second longer. As he felt his hands tear open as they gripped jagged pieces of debris he looked to his left and saw the Ambassador with the same looks of determination, desperation and hope digging hastily through the rubble with him, Fred by his side. He looked around to see his team and men and women he did not even know scrambling to find any signs of life, the same hope and determination on their faces but grief was in all their eyes. Trent did not have time for grief. He had to find his brother. There was no other acceptable way he could live.

Seconds turned into minutes, that turned into lifetimes. He kept digging. Despair and panic were gripping his heart and strangling the life out of it, but still he kept digging.

Clay had rejoined him now with Cerb and Sonny at his side, tossing debris that out weight both of them just with pure adrenaline alone. Then he saw Cerb snake his way through a tight passage. The wail that followed only gripped his heart harder.

Brock and Miles names were desperately screamed as they kept digging.

“CASEVAC will be here in 10.” He heard in his comms, he just hoped and prayed that it was still needed by the time they got to his brother.

“BROCK!” Please be alive he silently begged.

“I found a shoe.” Ray yelled and everyone began shifting their focus in that area. 

“Brock you better be alive when we get there or I will kill you myself.” He heard Sonny yelling.

Trent took just long enough to calm his nerves and looked at a haggard Clay, who had misplaced guilt written in every cracked line of dust, sweat and tears on his face. He looked at a way too pale Blackburn, with pain painted on his face as he one handedly tried to move rubbish and clear a path to the sailor that he felt he put in this tomb. He wished he could do something to let them know Brock would never blame them, but right now he did not have it in him to even form a complete sentence. He looked at Sonny, guilt and grief on his face because he was mourning for two friends not just one. He looked at Ray and he could see him praying, asking for that miracle that they so badly wanted. He looked at Jason, determination and the haunted look of loss of his past, and now his present, on his face. He wanted to take all their pain and lock it way and instantly make it better but he just could not do that now. His brain was back into it singular focus; Brock.

Time stopped when he saw a bloody head of dark curls, just a few inches from where Cerb was pawing.

“BROCK!!!!.....GUYS HE’S HERE!” Trent bellowed.

Men and women carefully surrounded that area, lifting and depositing rubble, slowly uncovering the tangled mess of bodies that lay below.

“Come on Brock, give us something.” He whispered. The words were left unanswered.

When the broken bodies came into his view, the sliver of hope that Trent was holding on to splintered in to a thousand pieces. Despair was finally winning its battle.

There, as the final piece of debris was lifted, laid Brock’s broken body. Blood matted his hair, legs bent at unnatural angles. Face smeared with blood, bruises and swelling. Brock’s hands were raw and swollen like his own. All of the physical abnormalities of Brock’s body were unbearable, but what he would see in his nightmares forever, was how Brock held tight onto that little hand. In that grip alone you could see the hope, prayers, regret and so much more. That is the point that despair actually won. He did not want to know if that child was gone because he knew if his brother was not gone too that he may never be able to bounce back from this. He would lay incomplete for the rest of his life, which meant Trent would be incomplete too. Their team would be incomplete. Their _family_ would be incomplete. That actually shattered him.

Slowly he lowered his aching body down to his knees and reached his hand to the carotid pulse point on Miles’ neck. He silently prayed that he would find one, but he knew that there was not really a chance that he would. Children dying was always his weakness in war, it never ever got easier, it never made sense and it always felt irrefutably wrong. His hand laid on Miles’ neck for what felt like forever before he regrettable shook his head in answer. 

He heard the sobs of the broken family behind him and the screams of anger from Sonny, but he still had a job. One that he did not want to know the answer to, because if the answer was no his life would fall apart just like the lives of his brothers. They needed Brock more than any of them would admit and that is what he was trying to get through Brock’s thick skull when he talked to him that morning. If by some miracle there was a pulse under his fingers he was sure that Brock, if he kept fighting to live, would find out what he meant to their _family_.

His fingers hesitated above his brother’s carotid. His stomach was churning faster than a merry-go-round causing the bile to rise up in his throat. He cleared it and swallowed it down. He looked back towards his brothers’ faces one more time before he continued. Their eyes were lending him the strength that he needed to extend his fingers down to the still body that lay below.

His own heart stopped and his breathing stopped as his fingers sat there. He prayed that he would find one, but dreaded what that meant for his friend, his brother, if he were to survive. Time froze for all as the haunting silence overcame the chaotic scene. Finally after an eternity he felt a tickle of a fluttering pulse under his fingers. He was finally able to breathe again.

“He’s alive! Get a backboard and a C spine collar in here now!” Trent did everything he could do to stabilize his brother. He inserted an IV and strapped on the oxygen mask that the other corpsman silently handed to him. He loaded him on to a medical litter and rushed to the awaiting chopper; Trent by his best friend's side every step of the way there. He was not ready to let go. None of them were.

The rest of their _family_ knew they would not be able to fly with them, and it shattered them, but they also knew they would be on one of the other two choppers on the way out. They would land right after their brothers, so in the meantime they would set in uncomfortable silence, as more corpsmen and women worked on their other injured men. They would brew in the anger they felt towards Fred and his people, rage and the desired need of revenge growing as the minutes ticked by. Helplessness digging at their brains and internal organs trying to find a way out, so that they could feel useful again. The silence was the worst place you could be because your imagination could be an evil bitch sometimes, especially with the unknown.

\-----------------------------------------------

The hour and half CASEVAC flight from Tripoli to Sigonella U.S. Naval Hospital in Italy was the worst hour and half of Trent’s life. He felt absolutely helpless and hopeless as he and the other corpsman on board did everything they could to stabilize Brock’s broken body. They reinflated his lung when it collapsed. They bandaged bleeding wounds. They tried to stabilize broken bones, to no avail. They tried to introduce fluids to his body to combat blood loss and increase his pressure. Every time they touched him his heartrate would sky rocket from the pain and bottom out to almost nothing. Half way there and they were on their last bag of fluids and blood. They needed more supplies but they were in a _frickin_ ’ CASEVAC not a MEDEVAC that his brother so desperately needed. 

With less than fifteen minutes left Trent had the audacity to think that Brock may just make it to the hospital alive, and that is when his heart basically stopped from hypovolemia. Trent took his bloody battered hands and tried to pump the life back into his brother. He tried with all the energy he had left to keep his brother’s heart beating in a shockable rhythm, so when they finally landed at the hospital that he still may have a fighting chance. He screamed at him to not give up. He begged for him to not to leave him. He prayed for him. He cried for him.

When someone grabbed his shoulder and took over compressions for him his world was lost. The adrenaline that had fueled him thus far completely drained. He quickly informed them of all of Brock’s vitals and information before his knees buckled as they rolled Brock out of his sight. The sense of failure and complete uselessness overcame him. He was alone and lost in the darkness of his hell.

He did not know where they came from but the strong hands of his brothers picked him up and pulled him out. He looked up as Blackburn was rolled past, followed by Clay; an ounce of regret at leaving them and not thinking about them again until now added to his misery.

“Hey, Trent!?”

Trent shook his head as he heard his name being yelled at him.

“Trent?” Trent made eye contact with Jason.

“You good?” Jason words were asking more than about his health. They wanted to know if Brock made it, if he was alive when they landed, what shape he was actually in.

“Yeah.” Was all he could say.

“Brock?” Sonny and Ray asked, while Cerberus eyes asked.

“Alive for now.....they took him.” His words were without emotions because he had none left, they went with Brock when they took him away from him.

“That’s good…that’s good.” He heard Jason whisper.

He wanted to ask about Clay. He wanted to ask about Blackburn. He wanted to ask what they did with the child’s body; if everyone made it out and so many other questions. But he had no energy left to even find the strength to talk, so he just stood there, staring at the double doors that his brothers had disappeared behind.

Slowly he was guided to the waiting room, not even sure how he got there or how long it took.


	24. Chapter 24

Time ticked away, so slowly.

The team was either bonelessly plopped into one of the stiff waiting room’s chairs, pacing the floor, eyes full of rage, waiting for a word just to let them know he was still alive. Or the lucky few were up on the floor unconscious, unaware of the emptiness that they uninjured were feeling.

Trent was none of those. He just stood there. Stood there lost in thought; his pain level increasing the longer he was stagnant. His brain drifting further away, as he replayed the event of the last fourteen hours; how could it only be fourteen hours? It felt like _so_ much more, a lifetime ago. The thought of Brock smiling face as Sonny put him in a headlock and rubbed his curls that morning flashed through his brain, and it was physically painful, like being kicked in the gut. That pain triggered a remembered promise.

“Shit!” Trent flinched and rushed out of the room.

“Hey Trent, where’re ya going?!” He heard Ray ask as he rushed by.

“I gotta make a call. I’ll be back.”

Trent wandered around the hospital until he found a nurse sitting at a charting computer.

“Excuse me ma’am, I was wondering if I could borrow a phone to make a long distant call?”

She took one look at him and knew that it was bad. She has seen that look so many times before. It had been on enough families’ faces as they said goodbye to their love ones and tried to contact others that were unable to be present. She would do anything to alleviate just one ounce of that pain; that is why she became a nurse. She handed him her cellphone.

“It has an international plan on it, take all the time you need, hon. You can put it back on the counter when you’re done.” Then she simply turned and walked away, giving the sailor his space.

Trent just stood there, catching his reflection in the window. Bruises and scrapes ran down his face, dust and blood visible on his uniform, plaster still in his hair. He turned away from that haunting reflection that stared back at him and look down at the phone in his hands. Fingernails splintered, fingers bruised and swollen. Seeping bloody wounds crossed his knuckles, but it was not all his blood. There on his hands, the one that fought so valiantly to keep his brother’s heart beating on the flight to the hospital, there was Brock’s blood, it was the only tangible part of his brother that he could see and feel and it made him hate himself and made the phone call that he was about to make that much harder.

He found a relatively quiet place, or as quiet of a place as you could in a hectic hospital. He stopped to calm his body and his mind and dialed the number that Brock made him promise to remember if anything was ever to happen to him.

With each ring he became more nauseated. It rang five agonizingly long times before he heard her voice.

“ ’ello.”

He froze, at lost for words for a second.

“Hey Evan, it’s Trent.” Guilt, sorrow and fear even evident to himself as he spoke.

He knew she would know something was wrong when he called. The only time he ever called her was when a mission went astray and he was either worried about Brock physically or mentally or when he was looking for him when they were apart. And she knew he was with him, so naturally she jumps right to the words he did not know how to answer.

“Is he alive?” no hesitation in her voice. She had seen way to much death to hesitate on that subject.

“I don’t know…” tears leaked down his face. “They took him straight to surgery….umm…Evan it doesn’t look good. I’m….so, so sorry.” His final words were squeezed through his grief constricted throat.

“It’s okay Trent. I know you did everything you could for him.” Her words steady, unlike his.

That was the dagger to his heart, her unwavering trust in his ability to protect his brother. His vision greying as he excruciatingly slide down the wall, elbow on his knee, head hanging low on his bloody hand, lost in thought. How could he tell her he wasn’t there when it happen, when his brother needed him the most. That he left him behind, albeit it was supposed to keep him safe, instead it probably got him killed. He had to tell her; so she could hate him, like he hated himself right know.

“That’s just it Evan. I..ahh…I,I…” He struggled to advance his words. “ he..ahha…had been sick with, so we…so..umm…”

“Trent, if you can’t tell me the details, don’t. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” She interrupted him with her soft understanding words.

He wanted to be sick; she was giving him a way out. He had to proceed to get this over with, so he could swallow and breathe again. “No it’s probably already on the news. I’ll just tell you.” Swallowing hard he continued. “We left him at the Embassy to keep him safe. All he was supposed to do was observe….the Embassy was attacked….” His words were incomplete but he knew she knew Brock well enough to put the pieces together “….We probably got him killed…. _I_ probably did.” He sobbed out the last words.

“Trent you listen to me and you listen to me good…. Are you listening?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“It’s not your fault, you hear me. It’s… _not…_ your…fault.” The last statement intentionally spaced and enunciated to drive home the fact.

“Thanks.” He didn’t really believe it but he was too drained and in too much pain to argue.

“Trent….Are the rest of the guys okay? Are _you_ okay? Physically? Not mentally, I know all of you are far from that.” The grief finally starting to crack its way into her words; which only left him hating himself more, because not only did he get his best friend killed, he hurt her too.

“Umm…Yeah….” Pausing to breathe a shaky cleansing breath “…Clay has a concussion and took a bullet to his leg, it’s not that bad. Blackburn took a round through his shoulder. He got lucky, missed the subclavian and the brachial plexus, shattered the scapula though. The rest of the guys are scrapped up a bit.”

“Trent….how are you?” it was the slow steady tone that she used to calm a frighten patient. He had been on that side of the conversation once before with her. It was the day Brock had met her physically for the first time. He knew she could see him even through the phone. It was best not to lie to her.

“A little more than banged up.” His response was candid but vague.

“Trent, do me a favor, would you?”

“Yeah, anything for you Evan.” He could hear the commotion around her dividing her attention.

“Please get yourself checked out. I can hear the pain in your voice and I know your purposefully being vague.” Of course she knew, she was so much like Brock in that sense, it was almost scary.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” Trent could hear more people yell ‘incoming’ and vitals in the back ground and her responding with muffled medical jargon.

“Hey Trent, I have to go. But remember if they took him to surgery he isn’t dead yet and he’s a fighter. Just like you….I really got to go…Love ya . Hang in there; he is going to need you. And Trent GET yourself checkout.” He heard her say as he removed the phone from his ear.

He just sat there, head in his hands. Tears still steadily falling. Time passing. He just sat there, lost and alone and incomplete.

He had no idea of how much time had elapsed. All he knew is he actually felt worse as he noticed Jason slide down the wall next to him. Trent looked at his eyes trying to read the grief and facts behind the rage that burned in them. He just couldn’t do it right now. He was too lost, too drained. So he asked as bluntly as possible.

“Is he….dead?” his voiced broke on the last word.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all kind words and Kudos. I am glad you are enjoying the story.

Jason looked down the hall in search of Trent. He had been gone for over an hour and it was really starting to unsettle him. Turning another corner, he saw the man and did not like what he saw. Trent sat against a wall, curled up on himself, ghostly pale and non-responsive at the chaos that flew by him. It was evident even from this distance that he was far from okay. Jason hoped it was all mental but feared there might be more. He needed to get Trent checked out or at least back in the waiting room with them, there he could keep an eye on him. 

Jason approached Trent as if he were a wounded animal, not knowing how he would react. It was rare for Trent to show raw anger but sometimes, in these kinds of situations, it just boiled to the surface without a warning. As he moved closer without a reaction he figured it was safe. He slid down the wall next to his medic.

Trent raised his tired eyes to his, tears gracing his cheeks and shining in his eyes. He heard a barely audible “Is he…dead?” fear growing in each of those three words. And it was almost his undoing too.

“No.... No news yet…. You always say that’s a good thing.”

“MMMmm..” was the only return.

“The doc just came by to let us know that Blackburn is out of surgery and is going to be fine. As you said earlier he was lucky, nothing vital. They are settling him in a room next to Clay’s. Who also is going to be fine, he just needs rest and fluids.”

“Yeah” the flat tone was almost worse than no answer for Jason.

“Trent, look at me. Are you okay? Have you been checked out yet?”

“It’s my fault.” Trent responded in a lost voice.

“What… NO!” the shock evident on Jason’s face.

“All day I knew something was off, Jace. I just figured it was because we,… _I_ was leaving him behind. I should have known. The pit in my stomach only got worse.” He fumbled for the words. “I should have said something sooner….I should have known.” He finished softly, almost like a small scared child apologizing for breaking his dad’s favorite coffee mug.

“Nope, _still_ not your fault.”

“I could have got Clay and you guys killed. I probable _did_ get Brock killed.” Jason knew Trent’s words came out a little harsher than he intended, but he could not blame him, because he too felt like screaming at the world.

“Trent. First of all, Brock is still alive. And secondly, however you spin this in that head of yours; it’s still NOT your fault. You know why?”

Trent just shook his head. Blinking his exhausted eyes, trying to focus on Jason’s face and his words.

“I had that same feeling. So did Ray and Clay. Sonny had his ‘Spidey sense’. I talked to Mandy before she left, she had that feeling too. Hell, Brock even said as we left that he did not have a good feeling about this. So again…NOT…YOUR….FAULT. You did what you needed to do. You got us all here alive, now it’s the doctors’ turn.” Jason searched Trent’s face hoping that the words would take, but all he saw was exhaustion and pain. Knowing he could not let Trent out of his sight when he was like this, he decided the examination would have to wait. It maybe something he regrets later, but at least they were together.

“Come on let’s go back to the team. Maybe in a few they will let us see Clay.” Jason added as he stood reaching an arm back to help Trent off the floor.

Jason pulled Trent to his feet and quickly grabbed his shoulder as the medic’s knee began to buckle under him. “Whoa, you good?”

“Yeah, umm… just really stiff and sore.”

“Come on, we’ll get you in one those _cozy_ recliners. They have to be more comfortable than this floor.” Trent lethargically followed Jason as he guided him with his hand on his elbow.

Jason excitement at finally making it to the waiting room, where Sonny, Davis, Ray and Cerb were, was short lived as Trent’s eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor before he fully made it through the waiting room’s door. All he could do, as he heard shouts of help around him, was try to catch Trent’s head before it bounced off the cold unforgivable solid tiled floor and regret the decision from five minutes ago.

\----------

The medical staff closely aware of the hospital’s every day calls and pleadings of help, knew that that call for help emanating from the waiting room stemmed from what was absolute fear and shock. They were there in seconds; a stretcher followed closely behind.

“What’s his name? What happen to him? Is he allergic to anything? Did he say or take anything before he collapsed?” The questions were being fired at them like an AK, but all they could do was set there in stunned silence.

“Sir, we need to know?” the stern softness in her voice drawing Jason back.

“Umm…His name is Trent Sawyer. He was caught in a blast about 6, no….umm…7 hours ago. He just said he was stiff and sore. I don’t know the last two answers but if I had to guess I would say no, to both.” Jason felt the numbness of guilt on his lips as he answered.

“Okay…we got it from here, we’ll keep you informed.” The doctor said as they loaded Trent on to the gurney and rushed him out of sight.

Uncomfortable silence greeted them. And it was haunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today is the last day of my very under-productive vacation. The wedding that I was suppose to attend was postponed. So after a week and half I have to go back to work at the hospital. So since the day at the hospital can be unpredictable during a good day, during a pandemic it is worse. I tell you that because the updates may be less frequent going forward. Sorry. But never fear you will get the whole story. Hope all is good with each of you. Go forward and be safe.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the kind words.

Hours passed. They sat. They paced. They cursed Trent out for not telling him he was injured. One by one they rotated between Blackburn and Clay’s rooms; failing to mention anything about the others’ conditions to their ailing colleagues, at least until they actually had something to tell. With Clay it wasn’t hard to fool him at first. He was so out of it on pain killers that you could have told him he was on Mars and he would have believed you. But at least he looked better than he did on their flight to the hospital. He was now clean. His eyes were still slightly unfocused from the concussion, not the drugs. The pain lines on his face had mostly diminished, but they were still present if you knew him. His leg was wrapped and propped up on a mound of pillows. The sight of Clay alone helped relieve some of their worry. But there was still something in those unfocused eyes they could not quite read. A sight that left Sonny’s stomach in tighter knots and a great desire to kill Fred. Even though he knew Fred would get what was coming to him when Mandy got her hands on him. There was no way she would let a person get away with hurting her family and destroying another family by stealing their child.

Blackburn was a whole other story. Blackburn knew the second that Jason walked in there that something was wrong. The first words out of his mouth were “Where’s Trent? How’s Brock?” The words were pleading and searching to make sure he did not throw _his child_ to his untimely death. It was a knife in Jason’s gut. He knew as hard as it was for him to separate his sailors from his _family_ , it was a thousand times worse for Blackburn. Blackburn at the end of every failed mission that resulted in injury had to face the reality that he put his _family_ in that danger and he would suffer every consequence that followed without his _family_ truly being able to help him, because after all he was their boss. Jason at least knew his brother’s would be there to back him every step of the way. He also knew if Blackburn every asked for help they would do the same for him, even if it meant disciplinary action. 

Jason did not know how to answer Blackburn’s questions, because he really had no answers. So, he was as vague as he could be without giving him any undue stress or hope that would tear him apart if the worst came to pass. It hurt like hell to lie to the Commander not only because he was his boss, but he was also his friend. He was _family_. He kept telling himself it was for Blackburn’s own good; Trent and Brock would be fine. If he said it enough maybe it would be true.

Jason slowly wandered his way back to the agonizing silence of the waiting room. He found himself sitting with Cerb by his side in a corner, zoned out, lost in another life time, when he sensed a shift in Ray’s body language.

Jason looked over at Ray as he looked up to see a doctor entering their new horrible hell; a scantly concealed expression of dread and exhaustion on the doctor’s face.

“Reynold’s family?”

They just nodded; words disappeared as fear replaced them.

“Let’s start off with the good news. He’s alive.” All of them exhaled loudly with relief; followed by a silent prayer from Ray. She continued “He is far from out of the woods. A broken rib on his left side pierced his lung and collapsed it. He also has several other broken, cracked and bruised ribs. But only two were displaced fractures, which is a good thing. We were able to repair the lung thanks to your medics. However we were also informed by your medic that his lungs were already compromised before he arrived; pairing his previous illness with his lung injury and broken ribs he’s going to have difficulty breathing for some time. He is intubated to help assist with this, but that has its risked too, like VAP adding on to his previous illness.”

She paused when she saw a timid arm being raised “Yes sir, do you have a question?” she directed to him.

“Umm, yeah what is VAP?” Sonny inquired.

“Oh sorry. Ventilator-associated pneumonia. It’s not good but we weighted the risks and decided it’s was negligible at this point, so we proceeded.”

Sonny just acknowledged with a head bob.

She jumped right back in where she left off. “When he arrived his heart was in ventricular fibrillation, just a fancy way of saying his heart was not beating correctly. This was most likely due to blood loss. We were able to shock him back into rhythm once we got FFP and fluids on board to expand his volume. His femurs and pelvis were shattered. That is what actually took us the longest, and it’s where the majority of his blood loss came from. He almost wiped us out of our supply of A neg. The bleeding is finally under control, bones sifted back into place and temporarily stabilized. He will need at least one more, if not two more surgeries to completely stabilize them. The pain is going to be unbearable for some time.

“What has us the most concerned is he has a subdural hematoma on his brain and a small skull fracture. We removed a skull flap to allow for swelling and put in ICP monitor to help us evaluate his pressure. He’s in a chemically induced coma; hopefully it will keep the pain in check and allow time for his brain and body to heal. They are finishing closing him up now, then he will be moved in to PACU and then to NSICU. That’s Neurosurgical Intensive Care Unit; the nurses there are amazing. As of right now he is listed as unstable and critical.” She paused, but quickly continued when she saw the look of horrors on their faces. “I know that sounds bad _but_ he made it this far. If his vitals and pressures hold steady for the next twelve hours after surgery we will upgrade him to critical but stable.” She turned the floor over to them “Any questions?”

They just sat there in stunned, numb silence. So she began to leave. Jason gave chase.

“Hey doctor?”

“Master Chief?”

“Two quick questions before you leave. One, when can we see him?”

“We really want him to be stable before you see him, so in twelve hours hopefully. That being said, if he takes a turn for the worse we will come and get you immediately …. And your second?”

“Will he remember what happened when he wakes?” Jason was praying that he wouldn’t because he did not miss that grip that Brock had on the child’s tiny hand when they unburied them. If he did not remember it would be for the best, because this might destroy him and their family.

“I do not know that answer. There is chance that he will not remember anything from the days leading up to the injury. But I have seen far worse injuries and the patients have remembered every detail. I'm sorry I can’t give you more.”

“Thanks….One more quick question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Umm…yeah have you heard anything about our medic, Trent Sawyer, he is the one that came in with Brock.”

“Ahh… no, but I will try to hunt someone down for you guys to question.”

“Thanks.” 

“Master Chief, I am praying for you and your men. I hope they’ll all be okay. They seem like real fighters.” With that she turned and left Jason standing in the hall. He muttered to himself “You have no idea” and headed back to his nightmare; the waiting room.


	27. Chapter 27

Another hour had passed and no news on Trent had come. They paced, they shifted, and they tapped their way through the agonizing minutes. The longer that there was no news the worse the clouds of emotions rained down on them. The only thing that cast an umbrella over their storm was their continued rotations through Blackburn and Clay’s rooms, but now they were sleeping, so they were back to pacing or sitting, fidgeting lost in thought.

The door open and all their hopes were dashed away when they saw it was Ray returning from the chapel. He looked a little less haunted then when he left, but the tensions of the unknown were still twisted in every muscle in his body. Ray looked around the room at the haunted faces before he settled next to Sonny hoping that he could offer some solace to the man that had so much rage boiling to the surface. They continued to sit in silence, Sonny’s rage dissipating ever so slightly. The door squeaked open again, filling them with both hope and dread as a careworn doctor walked through the door.

“Trent Sawyer’s family?”

“That’s us. What’s the news doc?” Sonny asked as they all stood.

“His body is pretty banged up. I am actually surprised he made it to the hospital on his own accord. But he’s going to be okay. He had a grade 4 lacerated kidney which had been slowly bleeding for some time, we were able to save the kidney. He also has some seriously bruised organs, including his other kidney and a couple of cracked ribs. He will be sore for quite a while…”

“Then what the _hell_ took so long?” Sonny interrupted. The events of the day, really the last week, were catching up to Sonny and his anger was now too hard to hold in.

Unfrazzled by Sonny’s outburst the doctor just continued “I am not going to lie to you guys; we had a complication during surgery. He had a reaction to the anesthesia which caused him to go into acute respiratory distress, but he is breathing on his own and as I said earlier he is going to be fine.

“There are still some possibilities of complications. The biggest concern we face is that his kidney may fail to heal and the other one is to bruised or damage to support proper function. If this scenario should unfold he may need dialysis, either until the kidneys recovers or he can receive a transplant.” Every one paled at the mention of an organ transplant.

The doctor continued trying to reassure the team. “That is an “if”, not a “fact”. For now we are going to have to keep a close eye on his fluid intake and urine output and his creatinine and BUN levels and also monitor him for post-op infection. We are going to have to restrict his movements; too much motion could undo all our hard work. Any questions?”

“What caused him to pass out, was that the bleeding or was there something more?” Ray inquired.

“Honestly the bleeding was not as severe as we thought it was going to be. However pairing the bleeding with dehydration, physical exhaustion and the severity of the pain that the bruising must have been causing it’s not a surprise. Like I said earlier I'm surprised he walked through those doors under his own power.”

“You obviously don’t know Trent. He is the most stubborn person I have ever met, even with two broken legs he would have tried to walk through those door on his own.” Jason adds.

“That explains it all.” The doctor chuckled, trying to bring some levity to a stressful situation, which earned him a few slight smiles before he added “Any more questions?”

“Can we see him?” asked Lisa.

“He is still in PACU right now and then he will be moved to SSICU. Once he is settled there, a nurse will be down to let you know when you can visit, but no more than two at a time for now, please. He needs rest. ”

A collective “Thanks doc” was heard as the doctor left the room.

Jason released a shaky breath and slid down the wall to the ground, head held in his hands.

Cerb joined Jason by the wall letting out a low lost and lonely whine. That whine echoed in all their eyes. “I know…” Jason whispered sadly as he scratched behind Cerb’s ears “…we miss them too.” Cerb just cuddled in closer lending him some support, as he lent him his.

“They’re going to be okay.” Ray said as he joined Jason and Cerb on the floor. The same emotions of guilt, grief and despair and relief were surging through his body, leaving all of them trembling to their cores.

“Let’s hope so.” Jason said sadly, because he knew just because they survived physically doesn’t mean that they would survive mentally. And with Brock it still was a waiting game to see if he actually would survive.

“I’m going to let Blackburn know the news.” Lisa said as she left, tears still in her eyes and butterflies in her stomach, because she also knew whatever one else knew; there was still a very long road ahead, where so much could go wrong and it could ruin their perfectly flawed family.

Sonny paced the waiting room for five minutes trying to bury his emotions before he decided he could not take it any longer, the walls were closing in on him making it hard to breathe or think. He had to get out of this room, it already had to many bad and painful memories.

“Guys, I am going to go visit Clay.” Sonny’s voice cracked as he rushed past. His emotions were running to close to the surface for his liking; tears being held back by sheer willpower. However when he crossed the threshold of the waiting room door into the chaotic hospital his will power fell, as did his tears.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Hope all is well where ever you find yourselves these crazy days. Be safe and enjoy the next chapter. Thanks again for all the comments and Kudos.

Sonny paced the halls, trying to calm the rage that burned within. Nothing seemed to be working. This was not going to be something he would be able to deal with, with just a few beers and a couple rounds in the ring. It was going to take a lot more, of what he did not know. Eventually his head was lost in endless rambling, unfocused thoughts of Miles, Brock, Trent and Clay and where this all went so horribly wrong as he stumbled down endless corridors.

How could one _fucked-upped_ _easy_ assignment turn in to this nightmare? It took Sonny a long time to find a family he truly loved and trusted. Now it might be gone. Just like that, in a blink of an eye. He always knew this was an inevitable but he never saw it happening to Brock. He always assumed it would happen to him first.

What wasn’t an inevitable was Miles. That should have never had happened. He knew Miles was gone but it still did not feel real. Just like the fact that Brock somehow survived that explosion. If he were honest with himself right now, nothing felt real. The fact that nothing felt real made this whole situation that much harder to deal with. The last time he felt this way was when Clay was injured during the Philippines tour. Which caused a very destructive downward spiral and he had promised Trent he would never let that happen again. But the surrealness of this nightmare had reignited that burning dark anger all over again. 

Sonny continued to pace as he realized that much of that dark anger came from guilt. Guilt, that Brock might not survive. Guilt, that he should have known Trent was hurting as bad as he was. Guilt, that his best friend was lying in one of these rooms. But most of all, guilt about Miles. Miles’ death was never going to leave him, because as small as that child was he left a whole twice as big in his heart. That thought alone left him punching a wall. He felt his knuckles pop and welcomed that pain, because at least he knew that pain was real. That pain was physical and that is something he could deal with. He may need to have an x-ray of his hand later, but he did not care because it meant it was real. Trent was going to be pissed though, which made him feel even guiltier, because Trent did not need this to worry about too.

As he continued to aimlessly stumble down the endless maze of corridors images of Miles and Brock’s broken bodies flashed through Sonny’s head and he found himself wanting to punch another wall. But thought better of it when he thought of Trent and he looked down at his already swollen hand. It would do nobody any good if he injured himself further. So he would do the next best thing to help suppress some of his anger and guilt. He would finally go visit Clay.

\----------------------------

He continued to pace the halls until he finally stumbled upon Clay’s room, not entirely sure how he got there.

Sonny quickly wiped his tears from his face before he walked through Clay’s door. The sight of Clay alone helped deflate some more of his rage, but not so much of his guilt. He continued to observe Clay. His eyes were closed, the pain and discomfort still at the forefront on his face. Sonny could tell he was struggling with everything that had happen. Hell they all were, but there was something else there that Sonny could not quite peg. As he observed Clay longer it became obvious that Clay was not sleeping. He was _totally_ faking it.

“Hey, lil’ buddy. I know you’re not sleeping.”

Clay just mumbled something unintelligible in response, that sounded very similar to ‘buck off bunny’, and tried to rollover, resulting in him hissing in pain.

“Hey Clay! Are you okay?..... How are you doing? …..Can I get you anything? ….Do you want to talk?” the questioned spewed out of Sonny’s month, before he could even comprehended what he was saying. He did not know what he was supposed to ask. All he knew was he had to do something to help him, he just had no clue what that was. Sonny may not have clue how to help Clay but he knew what he needed himself. He _needed_ to know if he was hurting. He _needed_ to do something to distract him. But most of all, he _needed_ him to be okay.

“No.” It was flat and monotone, so unlike Clay. He wore his emotions in the tone of his voice, not on his sleeves. So a flat tone was really, really bad. He was never flat.

“No? ‘No’ what Goldilocks?” It wasn’t meant to mean or sarcastic, it was meant to be searching because Sonny really did not know what that ‘ _no’_ meant.

“No! I am **not** okay. And No! I **don’t** want to talk about it….I just want to be left alone.”

At least there was anger in his words now, it was far better than that monotone shit Sonny heard before. He knew Clay’s anger was not about him being there or him questioning him. It was just easier to be angry at a person than at a concept, like grief or guilt, so he would be Clay’s anger’s target until he was better, that is something he could do. He would do that until he could pull Clay out of the hell he was living in right now. He also knew he was not leaving the kid alone when he was like this; that was something else he could do.

“Nope, can’t and ain’t going to do that. What’s on your mind?”

 _What wasn’t on his mind_? He fucked up and now the brother that saved him was in surgery. His other brother is hanging to life by a thread, they didn’t know when, or if, he was going to wake up. _And if he did then what? Would Brock be the same? Would he be back with the team? Would he hate him for slowing the team down and not letting them get there in time to help prevent this nightmare from unfolding. How would he ever look at Trent or Brock (if he survived) again? And if he didn’t survive.....then what?_

“I can see you thinking in there.”

“Seriously Sonny, I just want to be left alone.” There was exhaustion beyond belief and years in those words and so much misplaced guilt.

“And as I said earlier, it ain’t going to happen, so suck it up buttercup.” His voice now serious “You don’t have to say a word; all you have to do is heal and use my strength to do that if you must.”

They sat in complete silence, thinking and praying to Ray’s God and also wishing that this never happened. Finally, with Sonny’s _healing power of presence_ (Clay decided against telling Sonny that because the man did not need a bigger ego) his inner turmoil calmed; like the sea after a storm, the waves still present but diminishing in size and force.

“Thanks.”

“No problem there young Jedi master.” He knew his _healing power of presence_ would help Clay; he just wouldn’t point that fact out to Clay, at least not right now.

“How are the guys?”

“No new news on Brock. But the doctor that preformed Trent’s surgery said that he would be good. He’s going to have to rest and sit still for a while but he’ll be good.” He left out the ‘if Brock is okay’ part of that sentence because he knew if Brock was not okay then Trent probably would not be back with Bravo. _Hell_ , he did not think Bravo would survive without Brock, because as much as that guy loved to help Clay razz him, he was so much more to their family. They all need Brock to center them and to keep them from drift apart. He was like the glue that held there little family together. You might not see that glue, or in this case hear it, but it made whatever it was holding together stronger and that is what Brock was, _is_. He _is_ their glue.

“That’s good.” Clay’s voice small and withdrawn. The voice far from the confidant bravado that was there before this whole nightmare started.

Sonny observed Clay a little longer, before it dawned on him what that haunted look on his face was really about.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“Yeah.” Came the same lost, flat voice as before. “I’m tired Sonny and my head hurts. I just want to sleep.”

"So, go to sleep. One of us will be here when you wake up.”

Sonny sat by Clay’s side until Clay fell into a restful sleep. He sat there letting Clay’s _healing power of presence_ help him like his helped Clay. Eventually exhaustion finally put out the last embers of anger that still glowed within him as he drifted to sleep by his best friend’s side.

\------------------------------

Clay laid in bed, almost catatonic to the world around for two days. His body healing, his mind slipping under. It had nothing to do with the concussion and everything to do with guilt. The team and Lisa rotated through the chair by his bedside, as much as the nurses did. Everyone in the room trying to cheer him up; nothing cheered him up. Not the information on Trent and how he was trying to argue his way out of the hospital. Not them constantly telling him it wasn’t his fault. And not the fact that Brock was now considered critical but stable. Or the fact that Cerb stayed by his side day and night, because they would not let the dog in NSICU. Not even the fact that Fred and the leader of the failed coup, were in custody and would be facing treason charges. He just sat there lost in his own thoughts, _his hell_. This was a place normally reserved for Brock. Brock was the over-thinker that would constantly analyze every failed mission, trying to improve on it. The thought of Brock’s name twisted his stomach into tighter knots.

“Clay, ya’ hear the doctor?” His inner ramblings halted by Ray’s question.

“Hmm?”

“Doc said you would be released today. You just have to not over exert yourself and try to stay off that leg as much as possible until it heals….” Ray informed him as the doctor left. “….You okay?”

“Yeah, just a headache.” Came the emotionless response.

Sonny popped into Clay’s room, go bag of Clay’s in his un-casted hand. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand Blondie?”

“Yeah.” Clay stood and grabbed his clothes and gingerly limped to the bathroom to wash-up and change.

“Still with the one word answer I see.” Sonny said to Ray.

“Yep, he is just withdrawing further. I am hoping seeing Trent and Brock will help him.”

“It hurts just as bad seeing him like this as it does the other two.”

“Yeah it does brother, yeah it does. We’ll get him back though. Just like we’ll get Brock and Trent back.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Hope all is well and if you are from the North I hope you are surviving the nice little blizzard that we are having. (To think it was 73 degrees three days ago). Where ever you are be safe and enjoy.

Consciousness came back slowly to Trent. First his hearing came back to the annoying beeps of the heart monitor which made it almost impossible to go back to his blissful sleep. Then there was that constant tickle in his nose as he recognized the nasal cannula. Then that familiar dull ache that should be much worse but wasn’t only because of drugs. Then there was the sense of not being alone. His eyes opened to a fuzzy Jason staring at him from the chair next to his bed; weariness on every angle of his exhausted face. Trent inhaled preparing himself for the reprimanded that he knew was coming. But all he wanted to know was if Brock was alive.

“Welcome back.”

“Mmm.” His mouth and brain were not fully synced up yet. He took a few more breaths and dry swallows before Jason presented him with some water.

"How ya’ feeling?”

“Sore.” he mumbled. His throat was still scratchy and painful.

“I bet.”

“Brock?” It was honestly the only thing he carried about right now.

“He survived surgery.”

Jason tone was still full of regret and sorrow, which made Trent think there was something more.

“But?”

“There are no buts…. We will talk more about Brock later.” Jason paused to release a stressed breath and then he continued. “Right now, we need to talk about you for a moment.”

Trent knew he would have some explaining to do, but honestly he did not remember a lot about what happen after he hung up the phone with Evan. All he remember was being lost and in pain.

“Mmm….Sorry….I didn’t realize it was that bad. Then when everything happened, I just… Sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry and I believe you. I’m sorry too, I should have noticed sooner. But Trent, you cannot do that again. You scared the shit out of us and it could have been so much worse. You almost lost your kidney and you still could.” Jason observed Trent and saw the moment the severity of his injuries finally got through his stubborn head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just, next time, you will let us know. Okay? They are no more important than you. Got it?” Jason thought to himself _there better not ever be a next time like this one_.

“Yes…Sorry again.”

“Trent we need you on this team. So I am serious it cannot happen again. You need to let us know.”

Trent just gave Jason a sad understanding smile with unquantifiable exhaustion in his eyes. Follow by a groggy “You’re sure he is alive?”

“Yes.” Jason knew Trent was having a hard time believing him about Brock. Honestly, if he would not have heard from the surgeon himself, he would not have believed it either.

“When can I see him?” Trent asked through a yawn.

“You need to rest first and listen to the doctors.”

“I know, but Jace…..” Trent yawned again followed by long exhausted blinks.

“ _No buts_. Brock is holding steady. You rest and when the doctors say it is okay, then and only then.” Jason was silently glad that Trent was almost asleep again because he would have kept asking about Brock and all he knew right now is what he told him. He was alive. It still would be four brutalizing long hours before the healthy members of team were allowed to see him. It would be much longer before Trent was healthy enough to see him.

“Mmmm.” Trent said as a drug induced sleep pulled him under.

Jason observed Trent a little longer. He was not lying when he said Trent scared him. They needed Trent just as bad as they needed everyone else on this team, because each one brought something valuable to the team and it was definitely more than just medical school and Trent knew too. But sometimes he needed to be reminded of that fact.

The more Jason observed Trent the more he began to feel that his brother was going to be physically okay. It would take a lot longer than Trent would like and they might have to tie him down but he was going to survive. Now mentally might be a whole other story, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

\-------------------------

The next time Trent woke it became apparent that Trent was not going to start truly healing until he was by Brock’s side. He was combative and argumentative with the doctors and his family. All he wanted was to see Brock. No amount of reassurance would help him believe that Brock was still alive. Trent remembered seeing him before they took him into surgery, raw and broken beyond feasible repair. He needed to see for himself that his team was not lying to him. Deep down he knew they weren’t but still, he needed to see for himself.

It took Trent and his team four more days, after he woke from his surgery, to convince the doctors that he would be much more cooperative if he was with Brock. He promised the doctors that he would rest; just it would be by Brock’s side, not in his own room. He promised to not over exert himself or worry himself. He would be a good little patient and just lay there. He would put up with hourly blood draws and all the urine screens, and do whatever they asked as long as he could see Brock.

Honestly though, he really did not care what the doctors told him because he needed Brock. He needed to feel complete again; even if that brother was not awake; just being by him always seemed to center him, ever since that day of that plane ride home six years ago, and that is what he needed. He needed to be centered. Finally the doctors agreed to put a bed in Brock’s room so he could be there and hopefully he would be less combative and he would begin to heal. It was an arrangement that worked the best for the team because now they could be all together supporting each other through this hell.

When the nurse rolled him into his new room, the first sight of Brock, stole his breath, closing his throat with guilt and sorrow, making it hard to swallow around the constant growing lump of the unknown that resided there now. The guys had told him it was bad but he still was not prepared for this. Rolling back he took all of Brock in, the tube still down his throat breathing for him; chest tubes and drains remove fluid that shouldn’t be there; external fixation of the pelvis and femurs painfully obvious from under the sheet and so many other wires, leads and tubes attached to his broken body. The wrap around his head, protecting it from where the bone was still missing, stood out against his ashen skin; Brock was going to be pissed they cut his hair. The fever still burned high on his cheeks, which they reassured him was a healing fever not an infection fever. Trent may know there was a difference but it still ate at him. But what shattered his heart the most was not the physical injures, it was the ones most people could not see; it was the fear, pain and grief still present on his marred face, even with all the medications.

He was there for him now that is all that mattered. Brock would center him and he would center Brock.

For ten days they sat there, no movement, no sound. Doctors and nurses came and went. Endless tests and blood draws for them both and yet Brock just sat there silent and still. It was eerie to think that a quiet man could be even quieter. After day ten they released Trent and deemed Brock stable enough to fly and return to US soil. The flight and the return trip to the hospital were non-eventful, which was a relief, because all their imaginations were conjuring up the worst case scenarios, the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘what could have been’. But the broken man just lay there, silent and still.

For two weeks Brock remained motionless and for two weeks Trent hardly had time to heal himself. The men being stood down for the foreseeable future were supportive but still constantly reprimanding him. “You need to sleep”, “you need to take it easy”, “you need to eat”, and “you need to continue to heal.”

 _NO!!_ What he _needed_ was Brock to be okay, for Clay to be okay, because it was clear that he was beating himself up over this; for the team to be okay because they were drifting apart. He needed Brock to wake the hell up and tell him he was okay.

And for fourteen days the team sat there; without hearing a word from Brock and without see him move. Doctors kept telling them that “the brain has its own time frame when it comes to healing. It could be a day, a week or a month; you just have to give it time.”

As the days ticked by Brock physically healed, bruises fading, cuts healing, but Trent and Clay only looked even worse. Their demons were destroying them from the inside out. Their anger, either at themselves or the situation, was seeping through their pores, so thick at times you could taste it in the air. They needed to sleep and take care of themselves, regroup and re-center, which would not happen until Brock was okay. No amount of words or encouragement, or in Trent’s case, drugs, seems to help them get out of their own self-imposed isolation. They needed their counterbalance. 

On day sixteen they lifted the sedation. On day eighteen they removed the endotracheal tube and replaced the skull flap. The bruises were fading and the brain was healing but it was still not ready to wake. Doctors kept telling them ‘he needs more time to heal. His body and brain went through a massive trauma.’

Trent’s anger had finally boiled over. He was just too tired to suppress it any longer which was causing him to snap at the doctors and his brothers; he hated himself for it. The only thing that kept him from actually murdering one was that after three weeks Evan returned; three weeks earlier than he thought she would be there. Her pain superseded his. She had not seen the man she loved in over nine months and this is what she walks into.

His eyes reflected in hers, the exhaustion and never ending fear and guilt. For some reason that reflection was more painful than the phone conversation they had three horribly long weeks ago. There were no words, then or now. No words to apologize to her for his failure, for breaking the promise he made to her many months ago; to keep his brother safe. 

She just sat there with him day and night. Never told or asked him to leave, or to take it easy or rest. Her eyes never judging or blaming him for his self-perceived failure; only encouraging him to heal and be there, for himself and for Brock and Clay; for them all.

She had that same calming silence to her that Brock had… _has_ , bringing his anger at the world to a more manageable level. And like with Brock that calmness could be so infuriating at times. Why could she not just be mad at him, hate him, scream at him, then his emotions would have meaning? He just wanted to scream; at Brock, at her and at the world, but what good would that do. It wouldn’t bring Brock back to him, it wouldn’t help Clay and it wouldn’t help her and in the end, he would feel worse for laying his burden on her.

On day twenty-four, eight days after the sedation was lifted, Brock made his first sound. Hope slowly replaced dread. On day twenty-six he moved his fingers and on day twenty-eight he opened his eyes. No words could describe the elation and emotions in that room when those unfocused hazel eyes poked out from under heavy eyelids. It was the first time any of them could truly breathe since this whole nightmare started.

On day thirty-two they stayed opened. That was also the day they _lost_ him.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again. Hope wherever you find yourselves that you are safe and healthy. Enjoy.

He laid there caught in a nightmare of pain. Every heartbeat sending a surge of electric pain through his chest and head; every muscle twitch erupting a deep fiery pain in his nerve endings, stealing his breath. There was no possibility of burying it away any longer. No way to ignore the constant humming of electric pain and sounds of disembodied voices setting distorted on the edge of consciousness.

His eyes peaked open and slammed shut just as fast. The pain was an ocean of unknowable depth, beast lurking to consume him and currents pulling him further away. He struggled to breathe and hold unto the _reality_ he knew awaited him. Encouraging words could be heard on the edge of that _reality_ , the one he wanted to get to so badly. There was something he needed to do, someone he needed to see.

He had no concept of time or space, just a myriad of living, clawing pain. 

Time jumped; he knew this because the pain was finally waning, the unfocused colors of the world around him becoming more clear. The pleading words of support were slicing through the heavy fog in his brain. 

“Brock, come on, you got this. Just breathe. We need you to breathe, don’t hold your breath.”

He tried again to open his eyes. This time the pain was tolerable; his _reality,_ a little more real.

“There you are.” Trent said. They were words filled with so many emotions: happiness and sadness, relief and grief, anger and fear, and so much more all rolled up into one simple phrase. 

“Welcome back.” Evan chocked out.

“Tr’nt ? Ev’n? G’ys?” His voice painful to hear and use.

Clay by his side with glorious, soothing ice water.

“Th’nks” he found it easier to whisper.

He just stared at the room trying to read and judge the emotions of his family and friends. Trying to recall what left his body in this state and left that look on their faces. When it came back to him, first in snippets, then in an onslaught of raw emotions, he was physically sick. Trent saw it coming and had the basin in front of him before it happen.

“It’s okay.” Evan soothed as she ran her hand through his hair, the tears lying at the corner of her eyes unshed.

“M’les.” He croaked out, the pain and nightmare so real. “I failed.”

That was the moment they _lost_ him to the never ending nightmare, that was Brock’s brain.

 _Of course he would remember,_ they all thought. _They would never be lucky enough for him to forget that hell._

Brock now wanted to go back to a reality before this reality. A reality where he didn’t hold a child’s hand, begging him to live as he gasped his last breath. A reality where there was no pain or soul consuming grief and guilt. One where the thought of his happiness didn’t feel misplaced and wrong on every level. One where he could live with himself at the failure to protect the most precious gift a world could have; a sweet, naïve, innocent little child. He wanted out of this reality. 

As the days slowly passed, filled with tortuous physical therapy to regain a fraction of the muscle mass that he had lost and re-teaching his muscle to perform the most mundane tasks, he tried to pull himself out of his new hell. He tried so hard to be present in this reality but the world continued to move on without him, he only seemed to bury himself deeper the more he tried. It was like struggling in quicksand, every time he tried to pull himself out; its icy hands only grabbed ahold stronger and pulled him in deeper.

He could not sleep, without being drugged to his eyeballs on pain medicines, even though he was exhausted all the time. He could not eat without becoming physically ill. His body was too weak and broken to do anything but to just lay there, lost. They tried to talk to him, but all he could give them were mumbled monosyllabic answers; his brain would not allow him to form more because it was lost in a nightmare. The physical pain was horrible but the mental pain had no words.

The days turned into weeks and Brock just sat there lost and alone in a nightmare of pain, guilt and grief that they could only imagine, but he lived through. His family all there trying to help but instead he knew he was destroying them. He could see that Trent and Clay were suffering and it only adding to his guilt. He could see the worry in Evan’s eyes and he knew he put it there. He saw the guys and their families tiptoeing around him, afraid to say the wrong thing and making it worse. _He did not think it could get worse._ He wanted to help them. He wanted this over with. But the grief and guilt were a weight that sat like an elephant on his chest and he was not strong enough to push it off. The only relief he got was when the nurses gave him so many drugs his body and mind went numb.

One night after the nurse drugged Brock into a restless numb slumber, the team, Evan and their families had a meeting. They could not stand to see him like this any longer, they knew he was trying but his brain was stuck in an endless loop of nightmares. They talked for hours trying to figure out a way to pull Brock out. It was finally concluded that they just needed to have a true heart to heart and stop tiptoeing around the subject, it was doing him no favors, nor was it doing them any. They just really needed to talk to him, make him see what he meant to them, make him see that he was not alone and make him believe that he was not to blame. They would be his life line until he could remember how to live.

Jason knew that this conversation would not be just about helping Brock; it would be to help them all. They were all lost at this time. Their brother was lost in a world of pain both physical and mental and they were all lost at how to help him; how to help each other. Right now it felt as none of them had a purpose in this life, because they were all struggling with guilt or grief and they were falling apart and drifting away.

The more Jason thought about it; it was becoming quite obvious they needed their counterbalance to stay afloat and survive. Without him they were sinking and drifting further and further away from each other. They needed to get him back so they could all heal and re-find each other. Right now Brock would be their glue that kept them from falling apart, because now they all finally had a mission, a purpose. They were going to make Brock Reynolds whole again.


	31. Chapter 31

Brock just laid in bed, glassy-drugged, guilt-filled eyes staring off in the distance when they arrived the next day to have their little talk. Evan settled on the edge of Brock’s bed by his head, Trent on the other side, team and wives gather around; nobody knowing what to say to make it better. Make him better. Make it disappear as to never have happen. They knew that their brother was trapped in his head; thoughts and nightmares playing on an endless loop. Finally after several minutes of uncomfortable silence and Brock barely acknowledging their presence Evan took the lead. Her compassionate hands, careful of Brock’s head wounds, guided his exhausted eyes to meet hers.

“Brock…Honey, look at me….” Brock finally raised his exhausted eyes to meet her worried eyes. “I know you’re hurting and blaming yourself, but I want you to stop, please….. Stop and take a look around….at _these_ amazing men and _way, waaay_ better women…” that earned her the slightest of the most tired smile “….Anyone of them would run into a burning house and drag your ass out. And then, you know what?.... They would help you rebuild that house, a _new_ house, a _better_ house, because you are worth it.” Evan observed his eyes, searching but not finding acceptance yet, so she continued “The reality is Brock, you will grieve forever, you will not just ‘get over’ it; nor should you, but eventually you’ll learn to live with it. You will rebuild yourself, one brick at a time. Those new walls will make you stronger. And eventually, you’ll be whole again, not the same, but whole. I know you won’t be the same, nor do we want you to be the same. We just want to…..” She paused mid-thought, releasing a shaky breath to compose herself “….Just know…when those bricks get too heavy; we will be here to help you pick them up and put them in their new places. We know you would do it for us. Hell, you **have** done it for each and every one of us in some way. So please….”

As Evan stopped to look at Brock’s broken body and mind, Trent continued “You have carried me through some of the toughest times of my life, brother. You never blamed me, you never doubted me when things were too much for me to handle and I laid all my burdens on you. You were my foundation…” he looked at his wife Sarah and gently took her hand, “…you were _our_ foundation….So believe me when I say this… YOU are worth it, way more than you ever give yourself credit for. And I am here to return that favor a hundred times over. I will be your foundation….. Because honestly, six years ago, when you _silently_ walked into my life, you saved it. You probably didn’t even know, because you’re you and you would have done it without a second thought ….” Trent paused to wipe tears off of Brock’s cheeks “…Now it is my time, our time, to save you, even if it is just from yourself. I love you brother, we all do.”

“I love you but _definitely_ not like a brother.” Evan whispered into his ear, which earned her a sobbing laugh.

“Thanks.” It was still mumbled and emotionless.

“We mean it brother…you have always been our glue. You have kept this team, this _family_ , together through some rough days. So let us return the favor and be yours. We want to help and we will do anything for you. That is what _family_ is for.” Ray added standing at the foot of Brock’s bed with Naima in his arms, chin resting on her head.

They all stood and sat around Brock’s bed, watching, waiting to see if any of the words sunk into Brock’s brain. Hoping that just one word would short circuit the endless loop of the nightmarish hell he was trapped in. Evan saw the moment. It was one word and it was not so much the word as it was the tone and it came from Clay. “Brockoli.” Evan could hear the trust, the longing and pleading for him, for both of them to be alright and the question of forgiveness. Brock obviously felt it too because something clicked, it was evident in the pained lines around his eyes and month. Evan sat there really looking at Brock and she knew she needed to excuse herself, so he could have this moment.

“So, let’s get to this rebuilding!…” Evan exclaimed as she jumped from the bed, patting his shoulder gently and kissing his forehead “…because _we_ have a wedding in five months. And you **_will_** walk down that aisle and you **_will_** dance with me.” She paused as if in thought “You know what?” Not waiting for an answer she continued with a flirtatious grin. “Even if you can’t walk down that aisle, and if _one_ of them, or _all_ of them have to carry your ass…I guess I’ll still marry you, because after five years I think I might love you….or at least like ya’ enough to give marriage a try.

“I’m going to get some food and then go home and smuggle Cerb back into this hospital….Anyone want to join?” She playfully added.

Brock knew what Evan was doing. She truly was amazing, a light in his darkness. She was giving him his space, his time; time to process, time to finish hashing it with his brothers, his foundation and glue. Thank goodness all the other women in the room also knew and followed her out; bidding him farewells and until next times. He smiled his gratitude, still to choked up to speak.

\--------

Sonny made his way over to Brock’s bed occupying the place that Evan had vacated. “I told you she was scary. But I also think she might be slightly unhinged.”

“Yeah, that is why we work.” Brock choked out with a tearful coy smile. The slight laughter that followed hurt a little less, like it may be okay to laugh again.

“You couldn’t have picked yourself a better woman.”

“I didn’t pick her. She picked Cerb, then me. But I think I’ll keep her.” A smile ghosted his lips. That too hurt a little less.

“Aww man. I thought if you got rid of her I might have a chance.”

“Not a chance in hell. She’s way too smart for that and she’s all mine.”

“Keep telling yourself that buddy…. Truth be told, she is great. And you ought-to listen to her, because you’re right, she is smart….” Sonny’s face became serious before he added “You are way worth it. Now you have to start believing in yourself.”

The rest of the guys overheard Sonny’s final comment.

Jason piped in “You will never know how much you mean to this team, but we’ll be here to remind you and help you, through whatever is to come.”

“But first brother, you need to stop blaming yourself. That is your first brick. None of us blame you, not even the Ambassador’s family. It was just a god-awful tragedy and you were unfortunate enough to be present for it. Trust me, I know where the self-doubting and guilt will take ya’ and it’s not pretty.” Ray reassured as Brock let a jaw dropping yawn.

Clay continued. “Brock you help me dig out of my hell after the Philippines and like Trent said, you had no clue you even did it, because you are you. So please let me, let _us_ do the same. We are here for you and we will do anything for you.”

Jason could still see that haunted look of misplaced guilt etched in Clay’s eyes. But when Brock gave Clay a sad but trusting smile he thought that Clay might actually have a chance to get through that misplaced guilt.

They sat there with their little family, until Trent saw Brock yawn again; the physical and mental exhaustion carved into every line of Brock’s face circumvented the subject of his self-worth. “That’s enough for now. Brock, you need sleep.”

Panic whooshed into Brock’s stomach at those words. Fear exploding like fireworks in his head; fear of the nightmares, fear of being alone, and fear of seeing those vibrant eyes grow dim and then burn out, a life cut to short. He tried to bury it; to not show weakness, but it must have shown. Because Trent was reaching for his face with gentle hands, hands not of a warrior but a savior, guiding his eyes to meet his. “Hey, don’t worry, we got your six. Forever…in this life and the next. Just sleep.”

Those eyes, those words and those hands, which now gently patted his much shorter than normal curls, were all he needed for the first good night sleep that he had since waking up in this new hell.

“Love ya, broth…” dying on his lips as blissful peaceful sleep encapsulated him.

\---------------------

Several hours later Trent, returning from getting coffee, paused at the window when he heard hushed words coming from Brock’s room. Looking in he saw a haggard Clay and an exhausted Brock talking. Just standing there, hoping, praying that maybe they could help each other start to heal. He was startled from his thoughts as Evan approached him, an externally calm, yet internally excited, Cerb by her side.

“How’s he doing?” Noticing Clay in the room she changed her previous question. “How are they doing?”

It was obvious to even Evan that Clay needed this conversation just as much as Brock. Clay needed to know that Brock did not blame him, because there was nothing there to blame, and if she knew her fiancé at all Clay would walk away clear and leveled headed.

“I think they may be starting to heal.” Trent paused, faced still haunted with images of Brock after they unburied him, turn to look at Evan before adding “He…umm…really scared me this time.” Tears barley staying in check.

“Yeah, me too.” Fear and sadness still in her voice, if you knew what you were looking for. She paused to stare at Trent with, as Brock would say, ‘ _those eyes.’_ (Brock was right, they really did make you want to melt and spill your soul). “How are you? And I don’t want to hear fine.”

After thinking about it, he knew physically he was going to be fine. His kidneys were healing faster than even the doctors thought possible but he knew there was still a long ways to go when it came to truly healing, so he simply stated, “Getting better.” Not a lie, he was getting better; every time Brock opened his eyes, every time he spoke and every time he tried to smile or laugh, his rocks of burden, guilt and fear were being slowly chiseled away.

Evan just continued to stare with _those eye_. “You know, the same applies to you. Right Trent? …I know Jason and Ray both had this conversation with you. So you need to listen. _This…_ ” she indicated toward Brock and Clay in the room “…is **_not_** your fault. So please, stop blaming yourself. You did all you could for him and Clay. Not once stopping to think about your own needs. Willing to sacrifices yourself to save them. W _hich_ you better never do again...” she paused to make sure he heard her words and then continued again. “I know you would never blame Brock or Clay if the roles were reversed…. So, please... please stop.” She looked at him with pleading eyes and added “It does him or you no good if you doubt yourself. As medics and doctors we know that doubt is our greatest strength, because it keeps us grounded, but also our biggest weakness when we start questioning our abilities. We just have to know which one to pull out when we need it. And this is not the time for _that_ doubting.”

“Thanks….Brock always said you were smart.” A sad smile registered on his face and reflected on hers. They stood there in silence watching Clay and Brock’s interactions. Trent and Evan both had to refrain from running to Brock’s side when he had a painful looking coughing fit. Instead they watched as Clay coached Brock through the pain, handing him some water once Brock was back in the present. As much as it pained them to stand idle, they knew it was for the best. You could physically see the weight lift from Clay’s shoulders as the conversation unfolded. They knew they both needed this to start healing.

After several minutes of standing and watching, they observed the conversation coming to an end.

“I think they’re going to be all right.” Evan whispered into his ear. “Now you take this dog in there, so his healing can begin too.” She handed him Cerb’s leash and began to turn to leave. She stop turning back and looking at him. “Trent…It’s going to be a long journey and he needs you. I need you. Your family needs you. Your _other family_ needs you. So once you go in there and check on your two grown kids, making sure all’s good, you rest and begin healing too. We’re going to get through this. Alright?”

Trent smiled his affirmation and they both departed in the opposite direction.

A few feet down the hall Evan paused to watch as a joyous Cerb jump on to Brock’s bed licking his face and then snuggled in close to his master. She watched Trent silently doing his rounds with his eyes. Tucking his ‘kids’ in and then curling up on the cot next to Brock’s bed. She smiled as Brock weakly reached out and took Trent’s hand in his as they both fell asleep.

“Yep, I just think we just maybe alright” she laughed to herself and proceeded out of the hospital.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, as always, thanks for the comments and kudos. They truly make my day. Secondly, sorry for the delay. And thirdly. I hope you are all safe and well. Finally, enjoy and remember to smile. As we say at work 'we will get through this together.'

The next two weeks for all of them, well there was no easy way to put it, they _sucked ass_.

Brock was trying it was obvious. He was more engaged with the team and their families. He smiled more often and he tried to laugh more.

Physically he was still struggling with the excruciating pain of shattered bones. Every little twitch in his legs or abdomen was like a hot fire sizzling through his pelvis. God-forbid he had to cough, that left him in tears more often than not and gasping for air as his weak lungs tried to remember how to breathe. Trent, Evan and the rest of the team were there day and night to help him through the pain.

The night time was the worse, not just for Brock but really all of them. Nightmares haunted them all. For the team it was the moments they dug through the rubble to uncovered broken bodies. For Brock it was those haunted vibrant eyes growing dim, night after night. He would wake in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Evan and Cerb were generally the ones there in the middle of the night to remind him how to breathe and ground him back to this reality. It still sucked but he was trying to remember how to live.

Every morning when Brock would wake up, to be tortured with respiratory therapy, he would see an exhausted Evan, who looked like she had not slept in ages, replaced by an equally exhausted Trent. Brock could see Evan and Trent were struggling but they were true professionals of the medical industry, never saying a word of their own struggles. He knew eventually he would have to talk to both of them, just like he talked with Clay; who out of everyone, seemed to be the most normal. Sonny was trying too hard. Jason and Ray were still at lost at what to say or do but they too were there for him. They all looked exhausted. Brock only wished he could do something for them.

After respiratory therapy he would pass out from exhaustion and pain medicines. When he woke again Trent would be gone and one of the other guys would be there to get him through physically therapy. Then there would be more sleep and pain medicine and then a new _family_ member, over and over again until Evan showed up for the night shift. Some days he hated them for being there and seeing him like this, but most days he could not appreciated them enough.

That schedule repeated every day for five days following their little talk. On day five the doctors decided that Brock's bones were not healing like they should and he would be heading back to surgery to see if they could further stabilize his pelvis the next morning. 

\---------------------

The morning of his surgery came too fast for him. For some reason on that day he could not bury the fears that he had been trying so desperately hard to bury. From the moment he woke up he was antsy and fidgety. His stomach was unsettled, even though he had not eaten anything since the night before. He was in almost unbearable pain because they were withholding his pain medicines. His brain was running so fast he could not put his thoughts together. 

Trent was the first to arrive; he noticed Brock’s discomfort immediately. “What’s going on Brock?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? You think you’re going to get off that easy. What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Again. What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know….I think…I am scared.” He barley spoke the ending above a whisper.

“Of what?”

“Intubation…not waking up. Leaving you guys behind.”

“We talked about this…” Trent gave him a small sad smile. “First of all you’re going to be okay. They have to tell you all the risks, you know that. Your lungs are still weak but they are so much better than they were before. And your body is so much stronger than it was and you came back to us that time. You have every right to be nervous and scared, but know you are going to be fine and we will be right here when you wake up. We are going to get through this _together_. I promise.”

“Damn right we will.” Blackburn added as he arrived, followed by the rest of their little _family_.

“Thanks.” Brock gave them a smile that almost reached his eyes.

They all sat around chatting until they rolled Brock away for surgery. Then they were left with their own fears and nervousness as they waited for an update. Thank goodness this waiting was not nearly as stressful as the last time they were waiting for news on Brock. This time they were all together supporting each other. They laughed and reminisced and they drank endless amounts of coffee for five tediously long hours before the surgeon updated them. The surgery went well, without any respiratory or bleeding complications. However it was more complicated than they thought and he was scheduled for another surgery in a month.

They all sighed with relief. They knew that Brock was going to hate that news about another surgery, but he survived and they could relax a little more. It was one brick in all their healing walls.

\---------------------

The sun was setting when Brock briefly entered the land of consciousness. 

“Welcome back!”

Brock blinked his drugged, exhausted eyes at the fuzzy figure next to his bed. “S’nny?” 

“Who else would it be sunshine?”

“Mmmm.”

“How ya feeling buddy?”

“Numb.”

“I bet. Everything went good by the way.”

“Mmmm….wh’re is ev’ry one?”

“They went to get food. Well, everyone but Trent and Evan. They’re sleeping right over there.” He pointed towards the little couch in the room, Evan was passed out on Trent’s shoulder and Trent’s face was smushed against the back of the couch.

“G’d, they need’d sl’p.” Brock yawned.

“So do you.” Sonny chuckled. “Go to sleep, we will talk more when you wake next time. We got you.”

“T’nks.”

“No problem.” Sonny barley finished his statement before Brock was back in a numb sleep.

\-------

The next time he woke up, the moon was high in the sky and he was not nearly as numb. All the pain that was so amazingly gone earlier was back in full tormenting force now.

Brock’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as he tried to breathe through the pain, when Trent returned to the room.

"You doing okay Brock?"

“MMmmmm.” Brock breathed out, unable to make words through the pain.

“I’ll take that as a no. You have a morphine pump to your left. I am going to press it. It should kick in shortly.”

Trent sat staring at Brock, waiting for his pain to become tolerable. Trent’s stomach was in knots, it was horrible to see Brock struggling like this. He knew it must be bad because Brock probably has the highest pain threshold on the team. Finally after about ten excruciating long minutes the pain lines slowly faded and Brock finally open his tired eyes.

“Doing better?”

“Yeah…Thanks…..” he paused to yawn. “How did the surgery go? Sonny said something earlier but honestly, I don’t remember.” Brock said with a slight smile.

“Surgery went as good as it could have.”

“But?”

“But…you’re going to have to have another one.” Trent regrettably informed him with a sad smile. He was hoping he would be able to put off that little piece of news for a few more days, because he wanted just one day when Brock didn’t have to worry about what was yet to come.

“Great.” The disappointment in that one word could be felt in Trent’s core.

“Sorry….But you will get through it.”

“I know.” It was not a very convincing statement.

“Brock, you will get through this. I promise you that….I know it’s not going to be easy but…you…will…get…through…this. We will be here, because as Evan said earlier, you are worth it, more than you will ever know.”

“Thanks…for the pep talk…now and earlier, before the surgery.” Brock said through a brittle exhausted smile.

“Anytime brother.”

Brock released a shaking breath as a wave of pain passed through his pelvis and then asked “By the way where is Evan?”

“I sent her home to sleep. I don’t think she has actually slept in your guy’s bed since she returned to the States. While you were unconscious she spent almost every second here. Then she went back to work here at the VA. So she basically works, goes home showers and comes back. But that is enough about Evan. I want to know how you’re really doing?”

“I think I should be asking you that, because…” He was interrupted by Trent.

“Brock.” The annoyance was so very present in that one word.

“Sorry.” Brock paused to think about it. “Physically….this really sucks. Every minute of it…..And if I am being honest, mentally...I still don’t know…. But I know you guys will be here.” Brock finished with a sad haunted look in his eyes, which broke Trent’s heart.

“Damn right we will be. No matter what happens we will be here for you. I promise you that.”

“Thanks…For everything.”

“No problem. As I said before, I know you would do the same thing for any of us. You have done the same thing for me, and I don’t know if I ever said thanks.”

“You didn’t have to.” Brock released a yawn and then continued “Thanks for watching out for Evan too.”

“Actually, I think it’s the other way around. You got yourself a very independent, strong woman in that one.”

Brock released a small chuckle. “You have no idea.” Brock paused to take a good hard look at Trent. He looked more exhausted than the last time he remembered seeing him and it was obvious that something was bothering him. “Trent, are you okay?”

“Umm…Yeah…I’m getting there.”

“You sure?” Brock paused waiting to see if Trent would elaborate on his answer. After several seconds of uncomfortable silence Brock continued. “I know something is bothering you….I am worried about you, because honestly man, you look like crap.”

Trent raised his eyebrows. “Have you seen yourself?”

“That’s not fair….” Brock feigned hurt. “But I am serious, are you okay?”

A sad smiled passed Trent’s face. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Trent, I always worry about you because you are even more stubborn than me. What is bothering you?”

“You just really scared me this time.” Trent barely spoke above a whisper.

“Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize, just promise me you will never do that again.”

“I will try my best.” Brock was pretty sure that wasn’t all that was bothering Trent but his muddled mind was not able to put all the pieces together. That and it was obvious by Trent’s body language that he was done talking about himself. Brock wasn’t lying when he said Trent was more stubborn than himself. “Trent while we are making promises…promise me you will take care of yourself.” Brock finished with another yawn, his eyes were getting incredibly heavy.

“I will, I promise.”

They sat in silence for a short time, before a piece of the puzzle was finally put together in Brock’s drug-hindered brain.

“Trent….you know this isn’t your fault right.”

“I know.” Trent said with a sad smile.

“You saved my life and I can never thank you enough for that.” Brock yawned out.

“You need to sleep. We can talk more later.”

“Trent…I mean it, you saved my life. So stop blaming yourself.”

“Your fiancé said the same thing.” He smiled at Brock. Trent knew it wasn’t his fault but as always he kept replaying that day over and over in his head, trying to figure out if there was a way he could have prevented this. Deep down he knew there wasn’t and eventually his brain would figure it out too but right now it was still to raw for him to truly believe it.

“Well you better listen to her, because as Sonny always says she is scary.” Brock smiled back at Trent as he yawned again and his eyes drooped more. 

“You really need to sleep. You have a long few days ahead of you before you get moved to the rehab center for the next couple of weeks.”

“I just want to go home.” Brock’s eyes were barely open now.

“I know you do and you will, when you get a little stronger.”

“Th’nks ag’n for s’ving me….You sl’p too.” Brock mumbled out before he succumbed to a drug induced sleep.

“Always, brother.” Trent whispered as he took Brock’s advised and curled up on the cot next to Brock’s bed and welcomed the sleep that his body and brain so badly craved.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all find yourselves well. Enjoy.

For the next five months Brock’s days were filled with endless appointments with the psychiatrists, physical therapists, respiratory therapist, occupational therapist and doctors, first at the rehab center then as an outpatient when he finally went home.

Most days after therapy he would collapse on the his bed, so exhausted he could barely eat or think about moving, even lifting his head seemed to take the little energy he had left right out of him. Some days were better than others. His favorite days were the days he actually felt like he made progress, which at first was as simple as lifting his foot an inch off the ground. Who knew that could be so difficult. Every day when they could, Trent and one of his brothers would be there to encourage him. On the day he was actually able to take his first steps at the parallel bars his whole little family showed up to cheer him on with pompoms that Sonny had the nerve to buy. (Brock was going to get him back for it someday, it might involve Nair and his shampoo but he had to time to think on it, he would probably get Clay and maybe Trent to help too.) But if Brock was being honest they put a smile on his face that actually felt like the first true smile he had since this whole nightmare started. The trip on the parallel bars was short, it lasted three whole steps, before the pain was too intense for him. The disappointment of not being able to go further and that he let them down was just as intense as the pain. However they were quick to inform him when they saw the look on his face that he would never disappoint them as long as he tried and they were so proud of his progress. Ever session, no matter how successful or horribly bad, seemed to add a new brick to his newly forming walls.

His afternoons and evenings were filled with many conversations.

Heartbreaking and reassuring conversations with Sonny about everything and nothing. But most of all about Miles, which helped both of them more than he ever thought it could. Some days Sonny would sneak in a beer for him and they would promise to never mention it to Trent. Brock had a suspicion that he and Evan both knew, but never did say a word about it.

There were fatherly conversations with Jason and Ray about their families and the Green Teams. They made sure he truly felt like he was not getting left behind. They made sure that he was staying connected and not withdrawing from them. They reminded him that he needed to keep taking the good fight to the enemy, which at this time was his own body and mind. But hopefully someday that fight would be against the actually physical enemy with his brothers by his side.

There were brotherly conversations with Clay about forgiveness and Clay’s chaotic romantic life. They would talk endlessly about Cerb’s training, since he had been nice enough to help with Cerb when Evan was at work. Those two were forming a very close bond. Some days Brock worried that Cerb would abandon him for Clay, but Cerb always reminded him who his daddy really was when Clay would bring him home after his training. Cerb would jump in circles and kiss his face with those sloppy doggy kisses that he had come to love so much, then he would snuggle up on his feet.

The sisterly conversations with Lisa, who reminded him so much of his little sister, were a great distraction. She never mentioned the incident and she acted like she always did when they were together. They would rib each other and talk about everything from sports, and new military weaponry, to the best pair of high heels and what color eyeshadow she should wear. (That’s what you get when you are the one guy on the team that has three sisters).

The supportive conversations with Trent were always the ones he looked forward to the most. Brock felt like he could actually be himself with Trent. He did not have to hide his endless doubts and worries. Worries about this being the end of his time as a SEAL and how he may not be able to overcome this, and Trent never once doubting him. Always reminding him that Paulo Coelho, one of his favorite authors wrote ‘you drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it’. It was great advise for the both of them.

During these conversations Trent finally opened up to him about his fears and nightmares. Fears about him losing his best friend, _his brother,_ and nightmares about those agonizing long hours they did not know if he was alive as they dug through the rubble, the longest hour and a half of his life as he fought to keep him alive on that CASEVAC on the way to Italy, and the days they waited for him to wake up. Brock’s heart broke when Trent finally told him about his struggles. But he would be there now for Trent, like he was and is always there for him. Brock reminded Trent that he never doubted him, how truly thankful he is for him saving his life and he was so very sorry he put him through this hell. Actually he was truly sorry he put any of his family through this hell. The haunted look in Trent’s eyes was still there every time Brock saw him, but it was getting less and less as the days slowly ticked by.

There were also endless lunches and suppers with his brothers, Lisa, Mandy and Blackburn, his sisters and brother-in-laws, nieces and nephews and parents; they made him feel almost alive but still, there was an emptiness somewhere deep in his soul. They were trying to help him heal. But he was also trying to help each and every one of them heal, because in the end he knew that was truly the only way he would ever really get better. He tried his best to reassure them that none of it was their fault. He had never blamed them; Lisa and Blackburn needed those words, just as much as Clay and the rest of his brothers. He informed them he would do it all again, because that is who he is; really it was who they all are. His own words of forgiveness were trying to carve their way into his own brain, so maybe he could finally believe and heal as much as they were, but there still seem to be a thick block that kept him from forgiving himself and fully pulling him out of his own hell.

Day by day the world kept moving, which seemed so wrong, because how could a world continue to move forward when a young innocent soul was ripped tragically away from it. The whole world should stop and grieve that child, not just the child’s family and his friends. That was the thick block that Brock could not seem to get past every single day. It kept haunting him, over and over again, from the time he woke up until he fell into an exhausted sleep that night. He would keep trying to get through, he was not willing to give up, but it was exhausting. He was exhausted.

The nights were filled in his bed with Evan and Cerb re-charging him and encouraging him. They were always there to help him get through the endless nightmares and panic attacks that came when he had to let his walls down so he could sleep. They were there to push him through his doubts and put him in his place when his anger and frustrations would win. They were there to pick up pieces when he fell and to help him dig out of his brain when he got lost. They were there to hold him together through his tears and worries. They were his rocks and there was no way to thank them.

His other rock, Trent, was there for almost ever appointment and every physically rigorous, painful PT. He was there for the third grueling surgery on his pelvis. He was there for the excruciating pain that followed. He was there through the anger and the tears of frustration. And when his anger got to be too much and he never wanted to see Trent again, Evan would replace him and then when he hated her, one of the guys would be there. It went on and on in a never-ending circle of support. A circle of support that he was beginning to see that he needed, just as much as they needed him.

The endless meeting with the psychiatrist and his _family_ could only help so much when it came to forgiving yourself. It was the phone call at one o’clock in the morning that came from an overseas number that Evan answered, that helped him the most. He would find out much later, that Trent and Evan arranged the phone call that would be the largest, most solid brick that he would put back in place. That phone call would make him believe again and allowed him to truly forgive himself.

_Brock just laid in bed, hearing Evan talk in hushed inaudible whispers in the other room, before she came back into their bedroom and handed him the phone with an encouraging smile. There on the other end of that line was a voice he never wanted to hear again. Patricia. The mother that he had failed. The mother whose heart had been shattered into a million pieces, like his own but worse. And the mother that should hate him with every particle in this universe, but for some reason she did not._

_She told him that she did not blame him and she was thankful for him. Thankful that her son did not die alone and thankful he had a friend and Kitty there. She knew he did everything for Miles that he could and she could never thank him enough. She asked him for two favors to end that call; one was if he would mind if they had weekly calls just to check on each other; those weekly calls would do more for his psyche than any of the psychiatrists had ever done. And two, that he would heal for Miles, so he could carry him on in his heart and live for him. He agreed to both._

_By the time the call ended Evan was holding him in her arms as the never ending exhaustion and tears finally freely fell because for the first time he truly realized it may not be his fault and for the first time he truly wanted to get better. From that day forward he had a new motivation and a reason to live again._

_Miles._


	34. Chapter 34

For five months Brock continued to work his ass off. His days in Basic, DEVGRU and even SERE had nothing on the battle that he was currently fighting with his own body and mind. It was an uphill climb both ways, day and night. However, just yesterday, when Trent took Brock to one of his many appointments, the doctor gave him the all clear to graduate from the walker to a cane (a fact that Brock conveniently left out when Evan asked him about his appointment at dinner that night.) Brock thought that Trent was probably more excited than he was about the news, if the smile on his face meant anything. Cerb sure was excited about the news. He jumped in circles and almost knocked him over (which at this point wasn't difficult, a stiff wind probably could knock him over.) Their excitement made him smile; one more step in his recovery for him and for Miles. One more step in Trent’s recovery and even Cerb’s. Now today would be a bigger step forward, for him. For all of them.

As he stood in front of the mirror on his wedding day, Trent fixing his tie as Sonny and Clay stabilized him at the elbows. His legs were still shaky and unsteady but they were regaining muscle and strength day by day. Ray and Jason making sure he had everything he needed, he could not have been more elated. Five month ago he did not think it was possible to feel this way. He still had his good days and his bad, but the bad ones were coming less and less often. The nightmares had also relinquished some. So yeah, he was elated. Really words could not describe the emotions he was feeling right now.

“You ready?” Ray asked from the doorway.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Brock….” Jason hesitated, taking in the groom’s appearance “I am so damn proud of you…Now go make that lady your wife.”

“Yeah, because if you don’t I will.” Sonny whispered as he walked passed.

“Hey guys before we go line up.” With butterflies in his stomach, not related to the wedding but due to the gratitude he knew he could never appreciate enough or ever come close to repaying, he continued. “Thanks….for always believing in me, being there for me. Pulling me out of hell. I know it wasn’t always easy.”

“Nonsense. It’s been our pleasure.” Sonny chimed in.

“We would do it again if we had to brother.” Ray added.

“It better _not_ happen again.” Trent finished with a sad chuckle. There was still something missing in Trent’s eyes. He still looked lost to Brock, but he would keep trying to fix him and fix himself.

“I have a long ways to go, but I wanted to let you guys know I will be back with the team.”

“Damn right you’ll be.” Clay supplied as the rest of them silently agreed.

“That’s our cue.” Ray announced as the music changed.

\-----

Unlike normal weddings Evan was already at the altar before Brock entered. She decided to forgo tradition because she wanted to see if her words from fives arduous months ago were heeded. Honestly this day was no longer about her. It was about him. Him being happy. Him fighting. Him putting the bricks back in place one at a time. Him being whole again, well mostly, they were getting there. Him surviving, to share this day with her. So when _Here Comes the “Groom”_ played everyone there laughed; except her. She cried. 

Tears of joy openly rolled down her face as she watched Brock take his first unaided steps in months. Trent by his side, ready to steady him when he needed it, and Cerb, in his doggy tuxedo, on the other side, his guiding light and his foundation. Her smile could not have been bigger, nor could have his.

Clay leaned over to Sonny as Brock entered, trying to help the big softy keep his composure so he would not ugly cry and ruin this whole ceremony. He stated as straight laced as he could “Ahh man, even Cerb looks better in a tux than you.”

He watched as the smiled landed in Sonny’s eyes, erasing the tears.

“We made it didn’t we?” Sonny mumbled over his shoulder to Clay.

“Yeah we did….He did.” He heard Jason reply from in front of him.

The ceremony was perfect. The reception was even better.

\-------------------------

_Before Evan deployed, before this whole nightmare started, she assigned Brock the task of choosing their first dance song for their wedding. She only gave him two simple rules. Make it a good one and don’t tell her because she wanted to be surprised. Like most men, he had procrastinated the entire time she was deployed. Of course it crossed his mind from time to time, but he never gave it much effort. But after he started physical therapy, Brock had spent many days after one of his session lying in bed thinking about the perfect song for them. It always seemed to come back to just one._

_He was lying there, exhausted after his physical therapy, letting his mind wandered he thought about the day he first saw her as songs endlessly filtered through his head ,trying to find that one perfect song. He remembered seeing her smiling face and hearing her laugh when Ez would video chat with her during their tours together. The siblings had the same green mischievous eyes. It was honestly the first thing he noticed about her._

_He remembered Ezra telling him that he and Evan would get along great as they talked about their families. He always said she had the same old soul as he did and the same curious mind. She may be as stubborn as they came when it came to letting people in, but once you got in, you were hers, because there was no one more loyal to her friends and family, he told him. (He was not lying when he said that.) He remembered Ez always talking about how proud he was of his little sister as she carved her way into the world. He remembered Ez telling him that she joined the Navy to follow in her big brother’s footsteps. The smile that was on his face was only possible when you embodied your role as a big brother._

_He remembered one night, during their second tour together, Ezra getting up at the wee hours of the morning, trying to be quit and not wake his bunk mates, but Brock being a light sleeper was awake as soon as Ezra flipped opened the computer screen. He tried not to listen into their private conversation but it was impossible not to in their close quarters. He heard Ezra trying to talk down Evan as she panic about her upcoming MCATs and he remember his little pep talk to her and him singing her the song that he was choosing for their first dance. He remembered the smile on Ez’s face as he heard her soft laughter feel the barracks. He knew if he could have seen his own face at that time it would have shown the same smile. (That was the moment he thought that he might be falling in love with her even though they had never met in person. He was pretty sure Ezra knew he was too, if all the talks they had about her meant anything.)_

_Days later he remembered asking Ezra about the song and why he liked it so much. He told him it was something that he had been singing to her since they lost their mother when she was seven and he was twelve. It had become the siblings little motto to get them through. He also said that their mom was always humming it when she thought no one was around and it had become one of his favorite songs. He had never told Evan that Ez had let him in on their little family secret._

_By the time their third tour together was over Ezra had played the song, and sang it, so many times that it was driving him absolutely nuts. But honestly he did not care, because on tour you held onto any piece of humanity and family that you could. It is what got you through those horrible long days away. It was what got you though the nightmares._

_Brock knew his choice might destroy Evan, in a good way (he hoped), because he knew Evan’s relationship with the song and her brother. He knew their little secret. He knew that Ezra’s death was bad for him, but for her, it shaped the woman she became. It striped her down to her bare foundations again but she found a way to re-build. Just like he was._

_He chose the song not only because it was Ezra’s favorite song, but now he had a very special relationship with it also, not just because of Ezra, but because it had also became their family’s moto for the last five months and for the foreseeable future. He knew damn well if Ezra was alive he would have totally approved of his choice. (Not just his song choice but also his choice of his wife.) Now he hoped Evan would approve of his song choice too._

_\----_

Evan and Brock’s first dance was between Evan, Brock and all five of his brothers, supporting him on his unsteady weak and tired legs and supporting Evan as she cried in their arms when the first notes of _“I’ll Stand by You”_ began to play. It was the first time that Evan had openly cried since this whole nightmare started. She has spent so many hours being strong for him and them that they were honoured to be there to pick her up.

Brock knew he did a perfect job as Evan crumbled into their arms and sobbed, but she also had a smile on her face that could and, now always, would light up his whole life. He just hugged her and his brothers as the song played. It probably was the most uncoordinated dance in wedding history but he was just so happy to have her and them there with him. By the time the song was finished they were all in tears, not just Evan.

The whole night was beyond perfect.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. It has been a couple of interesting long weeks. But here the final chapter is. I hope where every you find yourselves that you are safe and that you enjoy.

Eight months after the wedding. Exactly fourteen months ago to the date of the ‘SNAFU’, as Brock had started calling it, Evan and Brock invited all of the guys, including Lisa, Mandy and Blackburn, and their families over to their house for supper after they returned form tour.

As Evan and Brock danced around their kitchen preparing the meal for their little _family_ he thought back about the last fourteen months. They were some of the worst of his life but he had learned so much about himself and his family. He always knew that he was a strong person but this prove to be a different kind of battle. The battle with his body was horrible, but after endless painful therapy appointments he was finally able to start training again and getting back into military fitness, working to get cleared for duty.

The battle with his mind was definitely one of the hardest of his life. In the last fourteen months he was able to take a look back at his life and see what the people in his life mean or meant to him. He spent most of his days remembering all the good and bad in his life and what shaped him into the man he was today. _Self-reflection. What a way to pass the hours_.

He thought about his grandma and her instilling his love of sports in him. Every opening day of baseball season, when he was in country and she was still alive, he would go to her house and he would cook for her and they would watch their team play. After the game they would share ice cream and would talk about family and about her struggles in life as a young child when her parents came over to the US after the Holocaust and he remember what she was able to overcome as a small child. She ingrained that same willingness to not give-up or give-in to him. Many days he could feel her watching over him and whispering in his ear to never give-up. He wished she was still here so he could thank her for her courage and support. Thank her for being as strong as she was because she was amazing and without her he knew he would not be who he was today.

He thought about Ezra. That youthful, playful, living spark in his eyes every day, no matter how good or bad, was something that drew him in. Even on their worst days he was able to find joy in something, no matter how small. He had that contagious laugh and smile that would have the whole barracks laughing. That was the worst part about losing him; he took some of the joy in the world with him and he missed that every day. But he knew that Ez was watching out for him and he knew damn well that he was the reason he had Evan in his life. 

He remembered the day they both joined the SEALs together and when they were assigned to the same Green Team. He remembered that fateful mission that destroyed him but brought his brothers into his life. Ez’s death was horrible for him. He was the closest friend he ever had at the time. They just clicked from day one. When their superior walk their team into a known ambush, that kill four out of the six of them, to line his pockets, he lost faith and trust in humanity. Ez and the other three fallen sailors, his friends, took a piece of his heart with them when they left him. He had a hard time trusting people after that, because if a person that you spent every day and night together with, slept in the same room with, who was supposed to have your six, could march you to your death to gain for themselves, then how could you trust anyone again. He knew now that was a demon he struggled with a lot. He had problems letting people in. He had problems with letting people care for him and actually feel like they meant it and that they were not using him. He remembered thinking back to that interrupted conversation with Trent before this all happened and realizing that is what he was struggling with then, at the time he did not know it but now he did. He had since talked to Trent about this in one of their many conversations. In that conversation he realized Trent already knew this and that is what he was trying to get him to realize. It was something he knew he would need to continue working on but now he was aware of it and had given Trent permission to point it out when that demon found its way to the surface.

He thought about what family was and the struggles and growing pains that they had. He thought about the first few months with Bravo and how he hated it and wanted to leave every day. Actually at the time he wanted to leave the military all together, so he could forget about it all. However he fought through it and slowly he learn to accept his new brothers and they learn to accept him, but it was not always pretty. Some days it was downright ugly. Now there was just so much history with them. They had been through weddings, births, death and injuries and they had survived. They were always there for each other even when they were mad at each other, because that is family. 

He thought about the first five month after the ‘SNAFU’ and all the time that his brothers and sisters (biological and not) had spent with him. Never giving up on him and letting him vent to them and pushing them away, but never going too far, so when he came to his senses and realized he needed them they were there to pick him up again. He realized he needed each one of them in his life and that he trusted them even when the demon was crawling towards the surface. He was beyond thankful because he knew Blackburn asked for a lot of strings to be pulled for them to have five month together to heal. He owed Blackburn at least a case of expensive Scotch and that would not even come close to repaying him. He really owed them all at least a case of their favorite drinks and still he would not ever be able to thank them enough.

He thought about the looks on his team’s faces as they deployed for their first tour after the ‘SNAFU’. Sure they had been spun up for a day here or a week there but never for four months. As he wished them a safe tour he remembered his heart breaking and panic rising because now he was without them for the first time since this nightmare started. He also realized they were without him for the first time in six years. There was a sense of incompleteness in all of their eyes that he knew reflected in his. That same lost look that had been disappearing on Trent’s face now was back but even worse. That was the moment he realized what he really meant to them and how much they needed him and wanted him there. He knew this was going to be a hard battle for him and them, but he knew they could and would get through it. That is what he had learned in the last few months. That is what he was working for. He was not lying when he told him he would be back with them because he needed to and because they needed him, something before all this started he was not always sure of. 

He spent many days thinking about Miles and his family. How Nico was getting by without his little brother. How his parents were rebuilding and finding a new normal. He remembered talking to Patricia and the Ambassador on Miles’ birthday and them talking about what they would be doing together and what he would be into now. He remembered visiting his grave with Evan and Miles’ family, it gave him a chance to say goodbye and apologize to him for failing him. It gave Miles’ parents a time to thank him and remind him he did not fail him or them. It gave a sense of closure for him but he knew just because he was finding closure and a new normal he would still have bad days. Those days he would seek comfort in Evan and his family and even Miles’ family now. They had been adopted into his little pack of people that he trusted and cared for because they fought the same mental battle every day and they were winning. Just like he was.

He thought about the one good thing that he realized came of all this; he actually got to spend time with his new wife without him being spun up or her being deployed. The days and nights that he got to spend with her were some of the best. They talked endlessly about rebuilding from the ground up. He knew she understood his struggles and it made her all that more important in his life. She understood the anger at the world and hopeless and lonely days even when there were people around. She understood the ‘keep smiling until it doesn’t hurt anymore’ mentality. She understood the lost looks in his eyes and struggle to find happiness when he knew he should. She understood how to push him through it all without burying him further in his own mind, because she had been through it all before. He thought back to when Ezra died and wished she was more involved in his life then, so he could have helped her through like she was with him. But she was strong and found a way to make it through, build a better her. He knew if she could do it so could he. She told him that every morning when she got up to head for work and every night she told him how proud she was of him when they laid down in bed. Some days he did not believe her, but she never wavered in her faith in him. Which is one of the reasons he knew she was the right one. He loved her more every day.

His rambling mind was interrupted when Cerb jumped up and ran to the door as the first guest arrived. Of course it was Trent and Sarah and their two kids. Slowly the team, his and Evan’s _family,_ filed into their house, filling their walls with laughter and joy as they greeted each other after four incredibly long months. 

As the adults sat down at the main table and the kids at the smaller table near by Brock took time to look at each one of them. They all returned no worse for ware, which he could not be happier about but they still had that same incomplete look on their faces. He hoped the news he had for them would help erase that look.

After everyone got settled and the food was being passed around Brock rose to his feet. No pain present and without assistance Trent internally noted. “I got good news and better news, which ya’ want first?” Brock questioned.

“Let’s start with the good news.” Ray spoke first.

“I’ve been medically cleared to rejoin Bravo on Monday.” Brock smiled and stated as if it was no big deal.

Brock watched that look of incompleteness slowly vanish from their faces as the statement sank in.

Their excitement was clouded by confusion at the lack of absolute excitement in Brock’s voice as he announced the one thing he had been fighting so hard to achieve.

“So, if that was the good news, what’s the better news?” Sonny inquired, confusion written on his face.

Brock glowed as he announced “Cerb’s gonna be a big brother.”

The women in the room quickly exhaled in excitement, while the men just stared at him.

“So??? You’re getting another dog?” Sonny asked, brow creased in confusion.

“No.” Brock laughed out, with a huge smile.

Trent smiled as the realization washed over him.

“I’m going to be a father. Evan’s pregnant.”

“Congrats man!” was heard from the majority and “Was that part of your physical therapy!?” was heard from just one as the statement finally set in.

The jubilant conversation continued as they ate. Brock was truly happy, for the first time in a long time. His family was all here, he was going to be back fighting by their side, protecting them. He and Evan were bringing a new miracle, blank canvas, into this world, where they and their _family_ were going to help splash, splatter and paint colors onto it, morphing them into the person that they would become. He just had one thing left to do, before this would really be the perfect day.

From the seat next to Trent, Brock observed him watching his kids play with Ray’s; happiness was firmly in place in Trent’s eyes, but that lost look was still there too. He leaned over, hoping that he may find a way to replace that look, and stated “By the way it’s a boy. We’re naming him Ezra Miles after Evan’s brother and Miles of course. Patricia and the Ambassador loved the idea. Also you and Sarah are going to be his godparents.

“And also I am going to need all the advice you can give me, because I have no idea what is coming. I mean Cerb was an easy baby. He never cried, slept through the night the first day I brought him home. He didn’t wear diapers…Oh my god…. what kind of diapers do we get: cloth, disposable, hybrid, organic……”

Trent just smiled, shaking his head as Brock prattled on. For the first time in over a year, he knew he was ‘complete’ again. That missing spark that had been gone for so long in him was reignited, and beginning to burn bright again. That sense of being loss was finally gone and he finally felt like everything was going to be alright again. That is of course, if he could keep Brock’s oncoming panic attack at bay as the realization of parenthood took hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take the time to thank each and everyone of you for reading, commenting and kudo-ing on this story. I know it was an emotional roller coaster for Brock and the team and it probably was for you all too. I know it was when I wrote it. I hope you enjoy the extra characters. I know I cried when I wrote Miles. I also fell in love with Evan as I wrote her. I just hope that you found a way to connect with them. Grief is a living, breathing emotion that has a mind of its own and at some point in our lives unfortunately we will have to experience it. I hope you can all find the strength to carry on and find a way to rebuild like Brock did. Best wishes as you go forth into this crazy world.


End file.
